


Stuff I Will Probably Never Finish

by HidingFromTheSpotlight



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU Youtubers, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Prison, Animal Traits, Crack, Creepy, Each chapter is a different story, Gamers, Horror, Kid Fic, Once Upon A Time Crossover, WIP, collection, don't judge my cringey early work I wrote some of these five years ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HidingFromTheSpotlight/pseuds/HidingFromTheSpotlight
Summary: A Collection of the Various Fics I've come up with over the years, that would otherwise never see the light of day. Feel free to take for your own if you see something you like.





	1. 9 to 5 (What A Way To Make A Living)

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be the first of a series of Ordinary!Avengers fics. Other ideas were:  
> Vengeance and Justice (Police Officer AU).  
> Stark’s Anatomy (Medical AU).  
> Crossing Clint (Morgue AU).  
> I Spy a Good Read (Bookstore AU).  
> Avenger Mania (Wrestling AU).

**Employees of SHIELD**

_Office AU._

 

Steve sighed again and threw his second draft into the digital recycling bin. Writing a company newsletter, though simple sounding at first, was surprisingly difficult in practice. But he had to get it written, proofread, and emailed to everyone in the company by two o’clock. In the cubicle next to him, he could hear Donald (better known as Thor, the Breaker of Desks) angrily going through the absentee reports, cursing inaccuracies under his breath. Thor was their OSHA Rep, which seemed ironic but he was good at finding the worst-case scenario in any situation. Steve stood up, peering over their shared divider.

“Someone forget to sign on the dotted line?” he asked.

Thor grunted, stamping the paper with extreme prejudice. “Something like that. Are you headed to the break room?”

“Yeah, I might as well,” Steve said. “You want a coffee?”

“Yes, please. Four sugars-”

“Lotsa cream. I remember. I’ll be back in a sec.” Steve headed out of the HR office, a cramped area with seven cubicles squeezed in, and down the hall. He could hear distant shouting from the Finance Department, but paid it no notice. Such a thing was pretty average for the offices of SHIELD – one of the most popular and profitable department stores on the face of the Earth. This particular office was responsible for one of SHIELD’s smaller stores, so it tended to slip below the radar.

The break room wasn’t as empty as he hoped, though he ignored them as much as he could. He wasn’t being antisocial (well, not on purpose), he just didn’t have the time to talk. The man and woman – Romanov and Barton from Marketing – paid him no attention, quietly discussing something in the corner. Tony Stark was drinking coffee at the table, scribbling on a spare sheet of paper; Steve wasn’t entirely sure what Stark did for the company – he seemed to bounce around between IT, Finance, and Upper Management. He once asked Ms Potts (who had gone from PA to Division Manager in the blink of an eye) what Stark did, but all he got out of her was a laugh and an ‘If you ever find out, I’d love to know’.

While Steve was setting to work on the coffeemaker, rough breathing announced the arrival of Bruce Banner. Banner worked in the Finance Department, though he was apparently a physicist in another life. How he came to work for SHIELD is anyone’s guess. But the one thing everyone knew about Bruce Banner was that you did _not_ make him angry. He was an entirely different person when he was angry. Right now he seemed to be coming down from a raging fit.


	2. Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone forgets the events of the movie, except for Thor and a young woman. She is sent to retrieve Loki, and convince him to get to the bottom of the mystery.

He’d gone past pain now. It was almost as if there was no pain. But not quite. The venom dripped across his face, as it had done for the last few… he wasn’t even sure how long it had been. Time seemed to have melted away, much like his face and what was left of his sanity were threatening to do. But at that moment, the most pressing matter was that he really, really wanted to scratch his foot. He could swear he had been bitten by something and it was driving him mad, or more so than he already was. He’d give anything just to ease his discomfort, to have one arm, or even his other foot, unbound so that he could scratch away the annoying itch. He screwed his eyes up tighter, trying to ignore his foot. But nothing could deaden the ache. He was so very focused on the persistent tingle in his foot that it took a few moments to notice that there was no longer the pitter-patter of serpent venom against his cheek.

“Are you Loki?” A female voice asked.

“Perhaps. Who might you be?” Loki muttered, jerking his head this way and that to try and rid himself of the remains of the venom.

“Oh, I’m no one special.” The girl answered, dabbing at his face with a cloth. “Better?”

“Mildly. Who are you?” Loki enquired once again, raising his head to try and get a look in the dim light. All he could make out was a silhouette and a pair of spectacles.

“Well, my name is Alice. I- I work at a bookstore, part-time. I-” The girl stammered, straightening her glasses.

“I did not ask for your life story, mortal.” Loki told her dryly. “Why have you come here?”

“I- Well… it’s hard to explain.”

“Then go away.” Loki spat, laying down his head and closing his eyes once more.

Alice let out a sigh. “But I need your help.” She whispered.

“And makes you think I’m going to give it?”

“Because Thor needs you too.”

Loki remained still, his face as impassive as ever. Inside his mind, however, gears turned at a frightening speed, thoughts forming and colliding and dissolving, questions screaming to be answered. _Who was this girl? Why was she here? Where did the Serpent go? Do lavender and teal suit me?_ But the most important question was passing his lips before he could stop it. “Why would _Thor_ need _my_ help?”

“Ah, well… Thor’s- He’s been, um, locked up. On Ear- Midgard. They’re keeping him heavily sedated. They- they think he’s insane.” Alice stammered. “They think I’m insane too.” She added softly. “But, um, the point is that Thor needs your help. Midgard needs your help.”

Loki laughed bitterly. “I would have taken over that wretched waste of space, why would they want my help?”

“They don’t. They don’t know that they _need_ help; they think everything’s fine. But it’s not. I think- I know the Chitauri are coming back. They’re going to wipe Earth off the map, and probably Asgard too. But no one remembers the invasion. Except for Thor… and me… and maybe you. You do remember, right?” Alice asked hopefully, creeping closer.

“Of course I do, you foolish child. How could I not recall my most humiliating defeat?”

“Oh, well, that’s good. I think. Anyway, I need your help to convince the other Avengers that the world is in big trouble and to free Thor. So, I’ll just get you free and we-”

“No.”

“No?”

“I refuse.”

“What? Why?” Alice asked, somewhat dumbfounded.

“Why would I want to help the people who defeated me? Let them burn, I say.”

Alice gulped, obviously unprepared for his response. “But- but what about your brother? Don’t you want to help him?”

“He isn’t my brother.” Loki snapped, eyes flying open. “I do not care about your stupid realm, nor do I care what happens to that oaf.”

“But you’ve gotta care a little bit. You grew up together, so surely there must be something-”

“There isn’t!” Loki cried.

Alice was silent for a moment, giving Loki time to get his breathing under control. He had let his composure slip, and that grated at his patience. Why was this mortal so intent on vexing him?

“They aren’t just going to destroy Midgard, you know. They’re probably coming for you, too. It’s possible that they’ll torture you in a way so much worse than this. They might find ways to break you, your mind. They’ll find what you love, and they’ll take it away. So, whatever it is, it will be destroyed piece by piece.” Alice said suddenly.

“There isn’t anything.” Loki said again.

“Not even yourself? You don’t love yourself enough to try and save yourself?”

“That isn’t- If I were to go off on your silly little adventure, I would no doubt be killed. My refusal to join you is out of self-preservation.”

“But, if you stay here, it’ll be easier for them to find you. If you come with me, it’ll be harder for them to get to you because you’ll be moving around and surrounded by other people.” Alice said.

“What makes you think I’ll be remaining here?”

“Well, aren’t you tied up with magical ropes?”

Loki snorted derisively. “Magical ropes? You have proved yourself more moronic than ever.”

“I’m trying my best, I’m not an expert or anything!” Alice replied hotly, face flushed. “And if- if you keep being mean to me, I’ll bring back the Snake!”

“See if I care. You’re the one who needs _me_ , after all.” Loki replied lazily.

“Look, would you just be, I don’t know, _civil_? I want to help you!”

“Why? So you can use me? So Odin and the rest of the can use me as something to hunt? That’s it, isn’t it? This is some sort of trick. Why don’t you go tell Odin that I’m not going to fall for it?”

“Odin doesn’t even know you’re alive.” Alice said softly.

“No change from the usual then.” Loki snorted.

“No, really! He doesn’t remember anything after Thor was banished. No one does. For all they know, you had just vanished from the face of the ear- I mean, the universe."


	3. A Changed Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki decides to settle into a normal life on Earth, only to be discovered by Tony.

**Unknown Number:** _So, Man of Iron, what do you Avengers do in your time off?_

**Tony Stark:** _There are only two people who call me Man of Iron. And I’m guessing you’re not Thor._

**Unknown Number:** _How insightful. Answer the question._

**Tony Stark:** _How did you get my number?_

**Unknown Number:** _I asked one of the women at my workplace. She was quite informative, if a little upset._

**Tony Stark:** _You work? I would have thought that beneath you._

**Unknown Number:** _I’m actually quite good at it. I’ve already made assistant manager._

**Tony Stark:** _Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you be on Asgard?_

**Unknown Number:** _No. Now answer my first question._

**Tony Stark:** _I do things I like._

**Unknown Number:** _Which are?_

**Tony Stark:** _Why do you care?_

**Unknown Number:** _I’m bored._

**Tony Stark:** _So you decided to text me?_

**Unknown Number:** _You aren’t as boring as the others._

**Tony Stark** : _How about you come over to my place? You can finally have that drink._

**Unknown Number:** _No thank you. Nathaniel and I are watching Doctor Who, and we are quite comfortable on our couch._

**Tony Stark:** _You’re gay?_

**Unknown Number:** _I’m not sure what that means._

**Tony Stark:** _Is Nathaniel your boyfriend?_

**Unknown Number** : _No. He’s my cat._

**Tony Stark:** _Oh._

**Unknown Number:** _I do not like Rose. I prefer Amy. She’s interesting. And rather attractive, in a Midgardian way. The Doctor should choose her._

**Tony Stark:** _You’re honestly talking about the Doctor’s love life?_

**Unknown Number:** _It interests me. Though, now that I think about it, I’d prefer it if Amy remained with Rory. He did wait all that time for her to come back._

**Tony Stark:** _What else interests you?_

**Unknown Number:** _I’m quite curious about the strange book you mortals often mention. The one that contains heads, or something of the like?_

**Tony Stark:** _You mean facebook?_

**Unknown Number:** _Yes. This phone also interests me._

**Tony Stark:** _I’m surprised you managed to work it._

**Unknown Number:** _One of the girls at my workplace taught me how to text. Tomorrow, she’s going to show me how to set up an e male account. They all think I’m Amish._

**Tony Stark:** _Amish? Who told them you were Amish?_

**Unknown Number:** _They assumed so when they found I couldn’t work some of the more basic devices. I never bothered to correct them. They’re quite nice to me. Miss Trish of Boston introduced me to Doctor Who. Since then I’ve become quite the Whovian, whatever that means. I believe it refers to my love of the Doctor._

**Tony Stark:** _So, when you try to take over the world again, are Nathaniel and Trish going to be a part of your evil army?_

**Unknown Number:** _No. I’m not interested in taking over your world. It’s too difficult. I prefer working and spending my nights at home watching Doctor Who with my pets._

**Tony Stark:** _You really don’t want to take over the world?_

**Unknown Number:** _No. Though I must say, I am tempted to destroy this Moffat thing. He keeps upsetting Miss Trish of Boston. Something about teasing her and her fellow Whovians and Sherlockians._

**Tony Stark:** _Don’t. He’s one of the writers of your beloved Doctor Who._

**Unknown Number:** _Oh._

**Tony Stark:** _Btw, I’ll see you in five minutes._

**Unknown Number:** _What does btw mean?_

**Unknown Number:** _Stark?_

**Unknown Number:** _Are you ignoring me?_

 

Loki frowned at his phone, then jumped as someone knocked at the door. “Who is it?”

“Pizza man!” the other person called.

“Ooh, be right there!” Loki grinned, disregarding the fact he hadn’t ordered one. Pulling open the door, his smile fell when he saw it was _not_ the pizza man, but was actually Tony Stark. “You’re not the pizza man.”

“No. Now let me in.”

Loki frowned. “I don’t think so. You are not my friend and Miss Trish of Boston said I should not let anyone but my friends into my apartment.”

“You actually take advice? Well, here’s a bit more: if you don’t let me in, I’ll call Thor and tell him where you are,” Tony replied.

Loki paled and stood aside. “Please don’t tell my brother where I am. I- I like living here.”

Tony glanced around the tiny apartment, looking it over with his sharp eye. “Nice place,” he gestured to the cat staring at him from an armchair. “Is that Nathaniel?”

“No, that’s Rory. Nathaniel’s out hunting.”

“Oh. So… how did you get here?” Tony turned to face Loki, eyes roving over the God of Mischief’s body shamelessly. “And may I say, you look quite nice in jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Er, thanks,” Loki murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. “Honestly, I don’t know how I got here. I remember… being on Asgard, and then I awoke in this apartment with a note telling me that it was mine for as long as I wished.”

“Why did you stay? Why not go somewhere far away?”

Loki shrugged, moving cautiously around Tony to Rory’s side. “I don’t know. I supposed this place was as good as any. How did you find me?”

“I traced your cell phone.”

“Oh. I suppose texting one of my, er, enemies wasn’t the best ideas I’ve ever had.”

“No, it wasn’t. Now, I’m going to go through your stuff to make sure you’re not lying to me,” Tony replied.

“Okay.”

“You- you don’t want to stop me or anything?”

“No. I have nothing to hide.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I think I’ll make coffee,” Loki said, wandering towards his kitchen.

“Bribery won’t work on me,” Tony called.

“Mr Stark, if I were to bribe you, I’d use something much more enrapturing than instant coffee,” Loki said over his shoulder, opening his cupboard and pulling out two mugs.

Tony quirked his brow, grinning. “Oh really?” Turning away, he set to work digging through the couch cushions. “And what would you offer me that _is_ enrapturing?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard. You like sex, and I know a number of young women who would love to bed you.”

Tony chuckled. “I suppose that would distract me for a little while. So, Reindeer Games, where do you work?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, leaning back against the counter while the kettle boiled. “Why do you need to know that?”

Tony shrugged, moving towards a mildly cluttered table. “I’m just curious. I mean, where would the God of Mischief choose to spend his time? What could possibly be _worth_ your time?”

“I work in a comic book shop. They also sell memorabilia.”

“A comic book shop?”

“Yes. My pale skin and long hair doesn’t raise as many eyebrows.”

“Of course. So, this ‘Miss Trish of Boston’, does she know about you? Your past?”

“No. And I want it to stay that way,” Loki said.


	4. Animal Inside of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are three types of people in the world: normals, wilds, and domestics. Normals are average, ordinary, human. Domestics and wilds are exactly what they sound like. Humans with an animal nature. Their senses are greater than the average person, and they structure their social circles differently. Domestics are tame, willing to follow orders, but lacking in the necessary killer instinct that could make them a useful weapon. Wilds can kill without hesitation because that’s their way of life, but they don’t like to follow. Taming a Wild is a death sentence for their spirit, and they will lose themselves in misery. A Domestic without order and structure will become feral, spiralling into destruction.
> 
> Tony is a Domestic desperately trying to be Wild without understanding what it could do to him. Steve is the only Domestic in history to have successfully become a Wild without going Feral. Natasha is a Wild broken by the chains of the Red Room, dead inside and resigned to her captivity. Bruce is a Domestic fighting a losing battle against his Feral mind. Clint is a Wild who’s always been alone and made his own decisions, but it’s never turned out well for him. And Thor is… Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know.

The Avengers Tower was quiet. They had hit the monthly lull of super-mad scientists and villains and every other jerk who tried to tear the earth – or just humanity – a new one. So the Avengers team was staying inside. Steve was sitting in an armchair, sketching and scribbling as his thoughts ebbed and flowed. Clint and Natasha were watching some dated romance movie, sprawled over one another without a care for personal space. Thor was watching as well, sitting by himself on the love seat with a tablet cradled in his lap so that he could look up anything he didn’t understand. Bruce was sitting at the desk in the corner, which Tony had specifically gotten for Bruce so that he could work without isolating himself from the group. And Tony? Tony was creeping towards where Clint lay with a packet of gummy worms between his teeth. Clint watched his approach warily but not afraid. When the package was safely deposited in the crook of the archer’s arm, Tony sat back on his haunches and waited. It took a few moments but finally, and without jostling Natasha, Clint accepted the gummy worms. He took one for himself and held another just above the redhead’s mouth, within reach but not forceful. She ate it without even looking. “Thank you, Tony,” Clint said.

Tony beamed and scuttled off, disappearing back into the kitchen. He returned a few seconds later with a bag of trail mix, this time depositing it into Bruce’s lap. The scientist paused, looking down at the gift, before leaning over to nuzzle against Tony. The two shared a brief smile before the billionaire disappeared again. It was a while before he came back, and most of the group had resumed their activities. Thor looked down and found that Tony had snuck behind him, peaking over the back of the loveseat with two packs of poptarts. He stared at Thor with large eyes.


	5. And They All Lived Unhappily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Modern Fairytale/Once Upon a Time AU (but with superheroes). Clint Barton is an acrobat. Or, he was. He left the circus years ago, and bounced from town to town, job to job. He left broken marriages, shattered hearts, and immorality in his wake. Now he was on the run after a misunderstanding with the FBI, and he’s found the perfect place to hide until it’s all blown over. Tucked away between a mountain and a lake is the sleepy, quiet town of Leeton. It’s nowhere near a major road and their Sherriff’s Office is so old and outdated that it’s doubtful they would be contacted by the FBI. But there are buried secrets within the town, secrets that Clint is close to finding, and someone’s willing to do anything to stop them being discovered.

Act 1: The Last Superhero

**Chapter 1: Once Upon a Hawk**

 

The others were dead, or they soon would be. It was all resting on him; the fate of the world was depending on a high school dropout turned superhero. If he had any time, he might have laughed. Or maybe burst into a mental breakdown complete with horrified sobbing and tortured screams. Either way, he didn’t have time. He was crawling through filth and grime and what was probably blood, trying to infiltrate the first (and hopefully, last) supervillain convention. It wasn’t unusual for villains to team-up or group-up, but for so many to gather in one place? It meant trouble. The Avengers had been the first to probe, sent by SHIELD, but they had quickly been joined by the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, Spider-Man, and every other big name superhero on the face of the earth. It had turned into a showdown like no other; villains versus heroes, no holds barred. The memories of his part in the still-raging battle flashed into his mind unbidden – Stark yelling into his comm. link as his repulsers failed, crashing to the ground with no one to catch him – and no amount of control could stop them. He grit his teeth – the floor was slick with blood and he tried not retch as he fought his way through – and kept moving. The villains, the ones who had devised the scheme, had holed themselves up in the heart of the complex. From what Strange – choking on his own blood, his legs a mangled mess – had told them, they were working some powerful magic. There’d been no one else to take the call – static on every line, bodies everywhere, screaming – so Clint had volunteered. The lower level villains had brought the fight to the front, leaving the rest of the building unguarded.

It took what felt like hours to get to the conference room Amora and Doom had hidden in. The only way in was through the air vent, and it had been a tight squeeze. But finally, weakened and armed only with a handful of arrows and a damaged bow, Clint was staring them down. “I’ll give you one chance to surrender. If I were you, I’d do it before my back-up gets here,” he ordered, his voice steady.

“What back-up would that be, Barton?” Clint froze, hearing a voice that was _supposed_ to be dead. A voice that woke him up at night, sweat rolling down his back and his heart thundering like a racehorse. Keeping Amora and Doom in his periphery, he turned. Loki grinned, his spear aimed squarely at Hawkeye’s chest. “I’ll say it again, Barton, because apparently you didn’t hear me: what back-up?”

“My back-up,” Clint managed gruffly. “They’ll be here-”

“Never. The heroes still alive have wised up and run away. SHIELD and every other of your so-called ‘intelligence’ agencies, have neither the manpower nor the ability to take on the forces gathered here. The Avengers are down to one insignificant man with a bow.” Loki laughed, lowering the spear.

“I have arrows too,” Clint pointed out through bared teeth. He was shaking, just a little, and his vision was blurring at the edges. His uniform was crusted with blood, most of it his own. This was going to be his last stand.

“Leave him, Loki. He does not matter and his arrows are useless upon us. Doom, why don’t you dispose of him?” Amora said sweetly, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Doom will take great pleasure in destroying this pest,” Doom intoned, taking a step towards Hawkeye. Loki threw out his arm, catching Doom’s chest. He shook his head, moving towards Clint.

“No. I need him.”

“For what?” Doom scoffed. “He is worthless.”

“Oh, yes, certainly. But I need something to focus the spell on, and the effect it has is unsure. Better to risk the mortal than ourselves,” Loki explained smoothly. He wrenched the bow from Clint’s grasp and seized his wrist.

“I can’t move,” Clint choked out, unable to break away from the tight grip.

“Of course you can’t. It wouldn’t do to have you run off, would it?” Loki slid something heavy around Clint’s hand and most of his forearm, not caring when it caught flesh or drew blood. He clicked something into place, tightening it. “There. Now we can begin.”

“Remember our requests, Loki. We will know if you try to betray us,” Amora warned. Loki huffed, muttering under his breath. The muttering became a rhythmic chant, quick and harsh. It was like listening to a demon claw its way out of hell. Clint’s vision had gone black, and the voices became muffled. He realised, dully, that he was probably dying. Slowly the voices faded. He was alone. He was dead. He had failed. The last stand of Hawkeye, of the final Avenger, had been for naught.

 

~{-_-}~

 

In retrospect, getting into an intense argument with an FBI agent was a bad idea. Punching him in the face was a worse one. Arguing with _and_ punching him in the face while currently wanted for a very long list of identity and insurance fraud was a catastrophic one. In the life of Clint Barton, it was an ordinary Tuesday. He’d spent his life following through – and then running from – bad decisions that probably should have landed him in jail or a morgue. And, he thought as he pretended to sob messily into his lap while picking the lock on his handcuffs with a hairpin between his teeth, it made his humdrum life interesting. Hiding his now free hands between his knees, he leant forward as far as the seatbelt would allow, and affected a desperate tone. “Please, please, don’t send me to jail! Please, my daughter thinks the world of me, and I know I don’t deserve it but it would crush her to think I’m some criminal.”

“You _are_ a criminal, Higgins,” Agent Welch reminded him bitterly. He was clutching an ice pack to his eye and nose, his split lip having stopped bleeding a few minutes ago. Thankfully, they’d taken the bait and believed his fake name. “You punched an agent of the Federal. Bureau. Of. _Investigations_.”

“I know. I’m sorry, really. I have some problems at home and my mother’s sick and finding work’s a bitch nowadays. I just- I took it out on you and that wasn’t fair. I’m _sorry_. Please, just cut me a break,” he pleaded, carefully slipping out of his seatbelt. Welch was too occupied inspecting the damage in his phone’s camera, and Agent Spencer had looked to his left for oncoming cars, to notice.

“Bullshit,” Spencer said, his tone like cement. “You’re wanted in seven states, Higgins. I bet you just appeared like a shit stain in a sewer, without a momma or a poppa.”

“You got me all wrong, man. My momma is a saint and she’s sick as a dog, sir. All I need is enough cash to cover her medical bills. And I ain’t hurting no one, except for the agent and I’m real sorry about that. _Please_ , can’t you show a down-on-his-luck guy like me a bit of mercy?” Clint continued, one hand slowly working at the lock on his door. “Think of my little girl, sir. What’s she to do if her daddy can’t send home money for her? She’ll be starving, dressed in rags. My wife and her’ll be on the streets without me, and my poor momma’ll be condemned to die without treatment. Are you really so cruel to do that to my family, sir?”

Welch sighed, shaking his head at Spencer. The two shared a long-suffering ‘criminals, what’re you gonna do?’ look and ignored Clint. “So, you gonna call Eliza back, give it all a second try?” Welch inquired, settling back into his seat.

“I don’t know. Our relationship didn’t exactly end on a good note last time,” Spencer admitted.

“C’mon, it can’t have been-”

“She left a flaming bag of dog shit on my grandma’s stoop. My grandma’s. How do I know this isn’t gonna end the same way, only it’ll be my grandma on fire this time?”

“She… you know, crazy?”

“Nah, man. Just stupid when she’s angry. She said she’s gone through therapy and counselling to get herself under control, but still. Flaming dog shit on my grandma’s stoop.” Spencer shook his head.

“Oh. What about that cutie down in Reception? The one that always makes eyes at you?”

“Dee?”

“No, no, the blonde.”

“Marcia? Are you insane? She’s a lesbian. She has a girlfriend.”

“She does? Huh, learn something new every day,” Welch said.

“For a man in the FBI your observational skills are shit.”

“Shut up.”

“What about you and Elaine?” Spencer asked, slowing down as he came to T-junction. “How’s that going?”

Clint shot forwards, grabbing the agents and slamming them together. Once. Twice. He wrapped his thick arms around their necks and started counting, pulling them into the backseat. The agents struggled, but soon they were unconscious. After checking that they weren’t in immediate danger, he climbed out of the car and made his way to the driver’s seat, snagging the keys. He retrieved his meagre possessions from the trunk of the car and, on impulse, stole the agents’ guns as well; being able to shoot things usually helped when you were living wild. Attacking federal agents meant he was going to be moving up a few places on their wanted list, but hey, he’d always thought Mexico was calling to him. “Later, jerks. And good luck with Elaine, man,” he said to the unconscious men, making his way into the plentiful foliage on either side of the road. All he needed now was a nice, obscure place to hide until he could make his break for greener, more exotic pastures.

 

~{-_-}~

 

There had been a manhunt. Of course there had been, he’d attacked two feds and escaped arrest. It wasn’t a huge one, but it was a manhunt nonetheless. Even if it was for Arthur Higgins. Unfortunately for the US justice system, Clint Barton was a master of hiding. It had been a useful skill throughout his life. He was also very good at stealing what he needed, and it was the time of year when rich people went camping, so there was an abundance of goods for the picking. By the time a week had passed, reports of missing items had gone up a small fraction and the manhunt had been scaled back. With a car, stolen from someone who wouldn’t miss it for another week or so, Clint was home free.

He couldn’t head for the metaphorical hills just yet, though. He needed a town, preferably one with WiFi, where he could keep an eye on the feds and get an accurate gauge of when it would be safe to head south. It would require a town far enough away from where he’d been originally that they wouldn’t have been warned about him, but close enough that he wouldn’t get caught on the way there. A quick nip into a public library and onto the internet found him the perfect place: Leeton, Minnesota. It was small enough that there wouldn’t be much of a police presence, but large enough that no one would notice an unfamiliar face. Plus, according to a few of the websites, it was constantly copping flak for not getting its records and Sherriff’s Station up-to-date.

On the way to score himself a new car, he quietly calculated how long it would take him to get there. If he stole a car every few hundred miles, he could get there soon but it would leave a convenient trail. If he interspersed it with hitchhiking and sneaking onto public transport, it would be less easy to track but slower and risked meeting up with local authorities. Soon enough, he decided it was worth it.

 

~{-_-}~

 

Leeton was tucked between a mountain and a lake with only two roads in or out. It had a steady population and not much of a tourist board, so while no one knew _everyone_ , they all knew someone. The bus didn’t actually head into town – it was too far off the highway – so Clint was forced to walk the few miles from the bus stop. He didn’t mind the walk, but being nearly run over by a car was not the most pleasant thing that could have happened. Diving to the side, he managed to avoid becoming road kill. The car, a fancy black Lexus with tinted windows, screeched to a halt. The backdoor opened and a long leg appeared, followed by another. “Are you all right?” a smooth voice asked.

Clint shook off most of the dirt and leaves that were clinging to him, approaching the car. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just tell your friend that he needs to work on his driving.”

The man hadn’t left the car, merely turned so that he could peer at Clint. He was smiling in a way that was placating, but also slightly infuriating. “I’ll tell him,” the man replied, offering a hand to Clint. “I’m Loki Lyesmith. I do apologise for the rather rude introduction.”

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse. I’m- I’m Grant Walsh,” Clint said.

Loki’s eyes sparkled slightly, and for a moment Clint thought he’d seen through the deception. Instead, he inclined his head towards the car. “Would you like a lift? It is the least I could do.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” Clint went to the other car door and got in. “I’m a little grubby though.”

“I’m sure the car will survive.” Loki rapped on the divider with the top of his cane. He didn’t speak again until they were parked outside a small motel. “Have a nice stay in Leeton, Mr Walsh. If you need anything, my store is down on Hammer Avenue,” he said pleasantly when Clint had climbed out.

“Uh, thanks. Nice to meet you.” Clint shut the door and the Lexus drove off. He shook his head, feeling suddenly dazed, and headed for reception.

The reception area was a cramped, single room with a desk squeezed in between the front door and the unmarked back door. A bulletin board on the wall held a row of half-empty key hooks and yellowing posters. The man sitting behind the desk, flicking through a car magazine with a seemingly permanent scowl, didn’t even look at him. “Thirty bucks a night,” he grunted, flinging a set of keys at Clint with deadly precision.

“Er, okay,” Clint fished the money out of his wallet and threw it on the desk. He studied the man for another second. “You… you look kinda familiar. We ever met before?”

“No.” The man, Frank Castle according to a nameplate on the desk, continued glaring at his magazine.

“Oh. Never mind, then.” Clint left, shaking off whatever insane urge had made him say _that_. Although… the guy did look familiar. No. No, he didn’t. He was just like every other grumpy guy Clint had ever met. That was it.

After he chucked his things into his room and locked the door, his stomach growled. He debated going back to Reception and asking for directions, but gave up on the idea. Instead, he headed for what he hoped was downtown. He was rewarded a few minutes later by the tacky, neon sign for _Red’s Room, Diner and Bar_ promising ‘ _the Best Burgers in Minnesota_ ’. It’s probably a lie, but the furniture wasn’t too rundown and there weren’t any suspicious stains anywhere so it could be worse. He takes the seat furthest from the door, where he can watch anyone who comes or goes. Almost immediately, a redheaded waitress is standing in front of him, wearing a pink apron and the fakest smile he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” she chirped. “I’m your waitress, Natalie, how can I help you?”

“You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to,” he said immediately and then slammed his jaw shut with a grinding click because _what the fuck was that_?

Natalie laughed nervously, glancing towards one of the other waitresses nearby, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “What- what do you mean by that, sir?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything. I’m- I’m feeling kind of weird. Ahem, er. Anyway,” Clint picked up the menu and hid behind it, pretending to browse, “I’ll have the Cheeseburger with extra pickles and a side of oven-baked french-fries. And, uh, a coke.”

Natalie nodded, scribbling the order onto her notepad. “Is that everything, sir?”

“Don’t call me sir. Please. Just call me C- Grant.”

“Okay. Is that everything, _Grant_ ,” Natalie said, and for once the small smile was sincere.

“Yeah. Thanks, Natalie,” Clint handed the menu back and Natalie left, promising to bring his coke over soon. He busied himself with a newspaper he’d swiped from a shop front, though he quickly lowered it when he felt the hair standing up on the back of his neck. He was being watched. The feeling just wouldn’t go away, even when he glanced around and confirmed that it wasn’t anyone in the diner. As he raised the newspaper again, he saw movement out the corner of his eye. Whipping round, he froze. A small boy, maybe ten or eleven, stared back. He looked like a nice kid, if a bit lean. Something about his eyes seemed very familiar.

“You’re new,” the boy said, his tone more curious than accusing.

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I am,” Clint replied. “Um… Is that some sort of crime here or something?”

The boy smiled. “No. It’s just… no one new ever comes here.” He looked around cautiously, leaning further over to whisper, “Are you a superhero too?”

“Uh.” Clint’s brain stalled. If he were the kid, he could have thought up a lot of questions to ask a stranger, but that would never have been one of them. “Superhero? I’m-”

“Franklin, what have I told you about talking to strangers?” A man appeared, having apparently returned from the bathroom. He looked tired and frazzled, like he’d been pulled and pulled until he was stretched too thin. There was gray around his temples and streaked through his dark hair, making him seem older than he was. The wrinkles, frown lines, and worry lines, didn’t help either.

“I was just saying hello,” Franklin grumbled. He glanced at Clint once more before sliding back into his seat.

“I’m sorry about that. He’s- He’s a very friendly child,” the man, Franklin’s father, said. “I’m Reed Richards.”

“Grant. It’s fine. He wasn’t bothering me,” Clint replied, picking up his paper once more.

Richards leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Did he ask you if you were a superhero?” he asked, biting his lip.

Clint blinked. This felt like something he should keep secret. He wasn’t sure why, but he remembered being a kid and how important secrets were. “Superhero? No. He was just telling me how you don’t get many visitors around here.”

Richards smiled, wide and relieved, and he looked nearly ten years younger. He nodded his head, glancing over to where Franklin was calmly reading a comic book. “It’s a quiet town. Not small, no, but quiet. It must seem boring to a kid his age.” Without another word, he collected Franklin and left.

“Poor kid, everyone thinks he’s nuts,” Natalie said, setting down his plate on the table. She had appeared so quickly, Clint wondered if she’d been eavesdropping.

“Why?”

“He thinks everyone is a comic book character,” she explained with a shrug.

Clint nodded, thinking back to the odd question Franklin had asked. “Even you?”

She smiled, straightening her apron. “He thinks I’m… the Black Widow, a former Russian assassin turned US government agent turned superhero.”

“That is pretty boss,” Clint said. “Where does it all come from?”

“He reads a lot of comic books. Other than that, you’d have to ask Franklin. Or his therapist.” Natalie nodded to him, moving away. Clint had to admit, by the way she moved, Natalie could have been an assassin in another life. That or a ballerina.

 

After his meal, he spent his time scoping out the neighbourhood surrounding the motel. He checked for empty houses – ones with expired leases or out of town owners. Most seemed to be firmly inhabited, which he found a little strange but shrugged off. There were a couple that had been left for whatever reasons and he carefully committed their locations to memory. It was always good to have back-ups. He wandered a bit further, coming to a small park tucked behind a few houses and between a vacant lot and a trailer park. The playground was ancient, constructed from wood and metal and the smallest amount of plastic. It looked like it shouldn’t even be standing.

“Hey! It’s you!”

Clint turned to see Franklin on top of the playground. The small boy slid down to the ground and walked over. “Hey, uh, Franklin. Where’s your dad?” Clint looked around, seeing no sign of the tired man.

“Oh. My mom is gonna pick me up soon. She and dad don’t get along after they got… divorced. So dad drops me off here and then mom comes to get me,” Franklin explained. He looked at the ground, kicking the ground. “I- I figured out who you are.”

Clint jerked around, his heart rate spiking. If this kid knew who he was, that meant the cops – _the FBI_ – were on their way. Taking a deep breath, he forced a cheerful chuckle. “Is that so? And who am I?”

“Hawkeye.”

Clint paused. “I don’t-”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t expect you to remember, though it’s weird that I’ve never seen you before. Normally no one new ever shows up. Ever,” Franklin said.

Clint recalled the numerous occupied houses, and the few he had found seemingly left unfilled. “What, like no one moves in?”

“Or moves out. Or visits. Or _anything_. No one comes and no one goes. Everyone in the town has lived here for ‘as long as they can remember’. Which isn’t all that long.” Franklin sighed. “They all think I’m crazy.”

“Why do you think I’m Hawkeye?” Clint asked.

“Because you are. Here, look.” Franklin pulled out a comic, showing it to Clint. The cover declared ‘ _The Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes_ ’ and depicted several bizarrely dressed characters in heroic poses. One in particular caught his eye – a man in black and purple, carrying a bow and arrows.

“That… kind of looks like me,” Clint admitted, before shaking his head. “Look, Franklin… I’m sorry but that’s- that’s just a coincidence. I’m not a hero. I don’t know any of these people. I have to go.”

“Wait!” Franklin called, starting to run after him. “Haven’t you ever felt like you didn’t belong? Like something went wrong, but you just don’t know what? Like there’s people you knew, but never got to meet. I feel like that _all the time_. Everyone does. They don’t remember who they were – who they _are_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton (Hawkeye): An ex-circus performer on the run from the FBI. He's hiding out in Leeton until the heat dies down and he can figure out his next move.
> 
> Natasha Rushman (Black Widow): A waitress at Red's Diner, who's been looking for a way out of Leeton for as long as she can remember. Unfortunately, she owes money to a bunch of mobsters and every spare dollar she has goes straight into their pockets.
> 
> Tony Stark (Iron Man): A disgraced ex-businessman who now lives in the trailer park. He often goes scrounging in the metal yard for scraps, and earns a little money working at the auto shop.
> 
> Thor Lyesmith: Loki's ailing brother, who is treated as an outpatient by the local mental hospital. He is married to Amora.
> 
> Bruce Banner (Hulk): A mental patient being treated for Dissassociative Identity Disorder and anger issues. He used to work as a science teacher.
> 
> Steve Rogers (Captain America): A soldier who fell into a coma while on leave. He has been in the Leeton Hospital for as long as anyone can remember.
> 
> Phil Coulson: A former army ranger who died in the line of duty. He's buried in Leeton Cemetary.
> 
> Nicholas "Nick" Fury: Former Army Colonel; discharged due to unspecified mental condition. Refuses to leave his house.
> 
> Susan "Sue" Storm (Invisible Woman): A strong businesswoman and struggling mother, she's currently engaged to Victor von Doom. She split from her former husband after a terrible fight, but wonders if she might still love him.
> 
> Reed Richards (Mr Fantastic): A teacher at the local high school, currently divorced, with shared custody of their son.
> 
> Franklin Storm-Richards: Son of Sue Storm and Reed Richards. Convinced that this reality is a lie, he buries his head in his comics. When Clint arrives, Franklin becomes certain that he's the one who can fix everything.
> 
> Victor Von Doom (Doctor Doom): A wealthy, aristocratic business man who owns nearly half the town. He's engaged to Susan Storm, though there are quiet rumours that he's having several affairs.
> 
> Amora Lyesmith (The Enchantress): The Mayor of Leeton. She is married to Thor.
> 
> Loki Lyesmith: The adopted brother of Thor, Loki owns nearly every residential building in town, as well as running the Pawn Store on Hammer Avenue.
> 
> Frank Castle (The Punisher): Runs the motel/lives in it. Perpetually angry and grumpy. Owns a large collection of guns.
> 
> Johhny Storm (Human Torch): Susan's brother. Killed in a car crash due to reckless driving.
> 
> Ben Grimm (The Thing): Ex-pilot who suffered horrible injuries that left him scarred. He rarely comes out of his home anymore, refusing visitors other than Sue or Reed.
> 
> Matthew Murdock (Daredevil): An unsuccessful lawyer who has been blind since childhood.
> 
> Peter Parker (Spider-Man): A moody teenager who spends most of his time alone. He lives with his parents, but routinely attempts to run away to his aunt and uncle's place outside of Leeton.
> 
> Maria Hill: The deputy sherriff, spends most of her time following the current sheriff (Victor Creed) around and making sure he doesn't kill anyone. Friends with Pepper Potts, and one of the few visitors for Colonel Fury.
> 
> Victor Creed (Sabretooth): The sheriff; a violent, barely restrained man who has a particular feud with Logan.


	6. Creepy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the night before Halloween and all through the tower, the Avengers and friends shake and cower. Something is lurking in the depth of the night, waiting to give them a terrible fright. There’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, when there’s only darkness left inside.

The night before Halloween, the Avengers and their friends were watching horror movies. Truthfully, only Natasha and Clint were watching, though Darcy would occasionally jump and nearly drop her phone. Bruce was reading science journals on a tablet, Thor was focused on cuddling Jane and eating popcorn, Steve was idly sketching in a notebook, and Peter was editing photos on his laptop. Rhodey seemed to be dozing. It was peaceful in a weird way. The silence was broken when Darcy started cursing and jumped to her feet. “Damn, my phone’s out of battery!” she announced to the room at large. When no one ventured any comments, she added, “I’m going to put it on charge.”

After she had left, Jane murmured to Thor, “I think she’s actually talking to her boyfriend.”

“Darcy has a suitor?” Thor asked quietly.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I think so.”

“Quiet! No talking during the movie,” Clint complained.

“Apologies, my friend. We shall quieten ourselves,” Thor said. Clint went back to watching as a demon tore someone apart, eating popcorn by the handful. The movie was just coming to an end when-

“Oh man! Jarvis? Why’d the power go out?” Steve asked, gazing around without seeing.

Jarvis didn’t respond. Bruce got to his feet, using the light of the tablet as a makeshift flashlight. “I don’t think this should be happening. Unless there’s something wrong with the Arc Reactor.”

“I’ll call Tony,” Rhodey offered. He fished his phone out of his pocket and started dialling. It rang twice before being picked up. “Hey, Tony, I wanted- … Oh, okay. I thought- … I see. How long will- … Is it serious? Is everything out or- … Alright. I’ll tell the others. Bye.”

“What did he…?”

“Tony’s down working some bugs and stuff out of the reactor. Seems there’s been a bit of wear and tear that no one planned for. Jarvis told him about it earlier today, so he came back this afternoon to fix it. The important things – internal door controls, cold storage rooms, emergency lights for the hallways, stairwells and lab levels – are still working, but anything non-essential won’t work. It also puts the tower into lockdown. The external windows and doors won’t open without a specific code.”

“So we’re stuck here,” Clint replied.

“Pretty much.”

“I should probably go tell Darcy what happened,” Jane said. “Does anyone have a flashlight or some candles?”

“I have one and there are candles in the kitchen,” Natasha answered. A swathe of darkness was eradicated by the brilliant beam. Everyone cringed. She followed Jane into the kitchen, and then distributed the candles to everyone. “They’ll only last an hour or two, but they should work fine if you need to find something in the dark.”

They left the communal living room and headed for the stairwell, their numbers slowly dwindling as they said goodnight. Jane knocked on Darcy’s door and entered. The room was empty. ‘ _She probably went to find us when the power went out. But wouldn’t we have met up on the stairs at least?_ ’ Jane thought. She pulled out her phone, hoping she could just call the wayward woman.

“ _I’m not around right now. Call back later. Or at least leave a message after the beep._ ”

“Damn.She mustn’t have been kidding when she said her phone had ran out of battery. Thor?” Jane went back to their bedroom. “I’m going to see if I can find Darcy; she’s not in her room.”

Thor nodded and picked up his candle. “I’ll follow you.”

“No, you stay here. If Darcy comes back, give me a call on my phone.” Jane headed for the communal kitchen, wondering if her friend had decided to check on the fridges. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, considering all the power outages they had dealt with in Puente Antiguo. She was halfway up when her phone rang. Static crackled through the earpiece briefly obscuring the voice on the other end. “Is that you Thor? Did Darcy-”

“Jane, there’s something in the tower,” Darcy whispered.

“What? Darcy? Where are you?” Jane frowned.

“It came into my room. I screamed and ran. It- It followed me. I couldn’t find anyone. Nothing’s working- The elevator didn’t come. Jane, you need to find the others. You need to get out of the tower.”

“This isn’t funny, Darcy. Where are you?” Jane demanded. Chills were creeping up her spine, making her shoulders tense up.

Darcy whimpered. “You need to run, Jane. It knows where you hide. It _knows_. Don’t go anywhere alone. Run.”

Jane began to repeat her question when Darcy let out a terrified scream and the phone cut off. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and ran. She needed to get to Thor. Something was obviously wrong with Darcy. She was within ten steps of the door when Thor came barrelling out, pale and shaking. He swept her up into his arms and kept running. “Thor! Thor, what’s wrong?” Jane asked.

“No time to explain,” he grunted. “Get to safety first.”

 

After Jane had left, Thor had searched the kitchen for a lighter. He knew there was one – Darcy had bought it because it had his face on the side of it. It had taken him a few minutes, but he found it on the top shelf, beside some cans of beans. According to his watch, it had taken five minutes. He lit his candle, just to be sure that it _did_ light, and nearly dropped it. A dark mist was coalescing around Darcy’s door. He saw it for just the briefest of seconds before it disappeared, but the sight of it struck a cold, hard fear deep into his heart. ‘ _An illusion? Or something more sinister?_ ’ He thought to himself, walking towards the door. He paused, pressing his palm flat to the wood. There was no magic to be felt, though he would not consider himself sensitive enough to truly gauge its presence. A hand brushed his back, and his candle went out when he swung around. “It’s just me,” Darcy squeaked.

“Sorry. I thought…” Thor trailed off, taking in Darcy’s dishevelled appearance. Her hair was wild and her skin pallid. He took a step back, waves of darkness rushing at him. There was something wrong.

“Thor?” Darcy watched him with unblinking eyes. She followed his movements, her entire body still.

“I didn’t hear you approach.”

Darcy shrugged, and the motion was definitely off. “Where’s Jane?” she queried.

“She is around here somewhere,” Thor lied. Somehow he knew it would be a terrible idea to admit that he was alone. “I’ll call her if you want.”

“Hmm. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure she is nearby,” Thor told her with conviction.

“ _I think you’re lying_ ,” Darcy crooned. Her voice was warped, sounding stretched thin. “ _Lying is bad. You don’t want to end up like Loki, do you?_ ”

Thor lashed out, a sudden animalistic need to _escape_ controlling his body. This was not Darcy. He was trembling, fear beyond any he had ever felt coursing through his body like an overdose. His stomach was twisting, bringing acid to the tip of his tongue. The thoughts beneath his brow were a cacophony – roars and cries and screams and _wrong, wrong, wrong_ , repeating itself over like a prayer. Darcy, or whatever it was, stumbled back and he took his chance to race from the room, losing his candle to the motion. The creature howled, a dreadful, spiteful sound that held no mercy or patience. He felt something rake across his back, the sting like hot metal on skin, but paid it no mind. He barrelled through the door, knocking it off its hinges. Jane stood in front of him, her mouth open and eyes wide. He picked her up and tucked her against his chest, more for his own reassurance than hers.

“Thor? Thor what’s wrong?”

“No time to explain. Get to safety first.” Thor headed for Natasha and Clint’s floor, desperate for other people. He knew nothing of this threat – its nature, origin, even its name was unknown – but something, some instinctual knowledge, begged him not to be alone. His fist impacted the door with enough force to rock it in its place, and he narrowly avoided punching Clint in the face when the archer answered.

“Thor, what are you doing here?” Clint stepped back to avoid being crushed by the thunder god, trading a confused look with Natasha.

“Close the door, close the door,” Thor demanded. He set Jane down and began dragging a couch in front of the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked sharply.

Jane shook her head. “I left the room to look for Darcy and when I’m came back, Thor ran out saying we had to get to safety.”

“Wait, Darcy’s missing?” Clint said with a frown. “But she just-”

“I saw Darcy. Or… something that looked like Darcy,” Thor explained, hauling more furniture over to his makeshift barricade. “It… It wasn’t her. Her eyes, they were not her own.”

“Thor, you’re bleeding!” Jane exclaimed, pointing to his back.

“When I ran from the creature it must have swiped me across the back.” Thor winced, reaching over his shoulder to feel the wounds. His hand came back red and… black. He allowed Jane to guide him to a chair so that she could get a closer look.

“Natasha, do you have your flashlight?”

“Here. You three stay here, I’ll go check out your room,” Natasha replied.

“NO!” Thor yelled. “No! We mustn’t split up. This creature, it wants us to be alone, we mustn’t give it what it wants.”

“Wait, hold up,” Clint said. “Let’s go through this from the start – you went into your room and Darcy wasn’t there? So Jane left-”

“I called Darcy first, but I couldn’t get through; it went straight to voicemail. So I thought she might’ve gone to find us. I left the room, and then she called me. She said that there was something in the tower. ‘ _You need to get out of the tower. Just run. It knows._ ’ And then the phone cut off.”

“How did she sound? Was she calm, upset, angry?” Natasha queried.

“She was whispering, and… she sounded scared. Just before the call ended, I heard her scream. Do you think… Do you think someone’s in the tower? Do you think they got Darcy?”


	7. It's A Big Bad World Out There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kid!vengers fic. The Avengers (that is, Tony, Bruce, Steve, Thor, Loki, Natasha and Clint) are in the care of SHIELD and Agent Coulson. They have never been outside (not for a long, long time at least) and yearn for just one day to explore New York City, not stare at it through a window or on TV. Then the Helicarrier comes under attack, and they have to escape on a magic carpet that Loki conjured. And for a while, the Isle of Manhattan is a wonderful place full of fun and laughter. But they quickly discover that not all of the bad guys wear masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce: 9  
> Steve: 8  
> Tony: 12  
> Thor: 13  
> Loki: 8  
> Natasha: 10  
> Clint: 12

_ Chapter One: The Shielded Children _

“Bru, can I use your crayons?” Loki asked, already reaching for them.

Bruce nodded, intently focused on his model of a magnesium atom he was building. “Please don’t break them,” he added weakly.

“I promise, Bru. Lightning strike Stark if I break it!”

“Oi!” Tony exclaimed.

Loki grinned at him. “Sorry, Tony, but I don’t like lightning.”

Tony grumbled as he went about fixing Dummy’s arm. “Thor, if you hit me with lightning, I’ll lock you in a round room until you can find a corner.”

Thor frowned. “But… round rooms don’t have corners.” He looked down at his blocks and held out the cylinder, as if to prove his point.

“Exactly, Meathead.”

Loki giggled. “He called you a meathead, Thor.”

“I heard,” Thor growled.

“Tony, please don’t insult Thor,” Coulson said absently from his armchair by the door. Thor grinned triumphantly at Tony, who glared at him.

“Clint says you’re all idiots. Except for me and Coulson and Bruce,” Natasha announced, interpreting Clint’s signing.

“Birdbrain, _you’re_ the idiot here. And we all know your hearing aids work fine so there’s no point pretending you didn’t hear me!” Tony said hotly. “And you can talk too for that matter.” Clint signed something to Natasha, who giggled and nodded. Tony scowled at both of them and turned to Bruce. “Bru, can you turn into Hulk and smash them for me?”

“No,” Bruce replied, adding the last electron to his atom.

“What if I gave you candy?”

“No.”

“Toys?”

“No.”

“Your own chemistry lab in Germany?”

“Okay.”

“Bruce, no hulking out. Tony, no trying to bribe Bruce into smashing people for you,” Coulson said, not even looking up from his newspaper.

“But he agreed!” Tony cried.

“I don’t care.”

Tony immediately began sulking. He crawled over to the toy box, upended it and climbed inside, shutting the lid behind him. The others, including Coulson, didn’t even bat an eyelash. Loki suddenly grinned wickedly, and Tony’s shrieks began to emanate from the toy box. Coulson was on his feet immediately, and was lifting Tony from the box in three quick steps. Tony clung to him, shaking. A tentacle retreated into the box, waving a cheery goodbye to Tony. The boy shuddered, and Coulson turned to Loki with a familiar look of disapproval. “Loki, what have I told you about using your magic to scare the others.”

“But it wasn’t me,” Loki said, wide-eyed and innocent.

Coulson rolled his eyes, putting Tony back on the ground. “If it happens again, you’ll get put in the Time-out Cage,” he warned, going back to his chair.

Loki pouted. “But it wasn’t me,” he said under his breath.

“Yeah, right,” Tony scoffed, recovering from his shock. “You know I’ve hated squids since we watched _Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_.”

“So did everyone nearby. They could hear you on the _bridge_ ,” Loki pointed out.

“You were screaming pretty loudly, Tony,” Clint agreed, forgoing his usual silence.

The cuckoo clock, chosen by a delighted Thor, began to chime and they all started packing away. By now they were all used to the routine. The only one who ignored it was Steve, still scribbling in his sketchbook. Coulson got to his feet, folded away his newspaper, and inspected the area to be sure it was clean. He frowned at Steve. “Steve, it’s time to go to lunch.”

“I’m not hungry,” Steve mumbled.

“You can finish your drawing later,” Coulson said softly. Steve looked up, a silent plea in his blue eyes.

“C’mon, Spangles, it’s hot dog day in the cafeteria,” Tony said, standing by the door impatiently.

“I wanna go here,” Steve said, holding up his perfect drawing of the New York City skyline.

Coulson sighed. “I’m sorry, Steve. I know you want to see New York, but it’s not safe. It’s a big bad world out there and we need to keep you kids safe from it.”

Steve closed his drawing book sadly. He’d heard it a thousand times, but he thought that maybe just once, Coulson might say yes. “Okay.”

“C’mon,” Coulson held out his hand, and Steve took hold of it. Natasha’s hand slid into his left, Clint on her other side with his hand clutching her belt. Bruce shuffled forwards, and his hand was taken by Tony, who carried his ever-present suitcase with the other. Thor and Loki brought up the rear, the latter riding on his brother’s back. Coulson led them through the halls of the Helicarrier, their home and “safe haven” from the prejudice and evil of the world, and past Director Fury’s office. They had almost made it to the cafeteria when an explosion rocked the ship. Most of the children were thrown off their feet. Coulson froze, pulling out his gun and asking for information over the comm. system. He paled when he heard what had happened, immediately beginning to herd the children back to their playroom. A shot rang out through the hall and Coulson fell to his knees, the bullet tearing through his stomach. Steve already had his shield out and was racing towards the two men, Thor close behind and screaming in rage. Natasha, Clint, Tony and Bruce lifted Coulson as much as they could, half-dragging him to a storage cupboard. Loki began casting a number of spells as Steve and Thor retreated, more men appearing around the corner. They were simple spells, most of them stolen from Harry Potter or the like, but no less effective in the hands of the gifted godling.

Coulson clutched at his stomach, trying to stem the flood of blood as the children barricaded the door. Bruce’s hands fluttered over Coulson’s, panicked and afraid. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” Coulson wheezed, placing his unbloody hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Breathe, Bruce. Keep calm. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re lying,” Tony whispered, pressing his hand to Phil’s back. Loki leant closer, past Tony and Bruce, fingers glowing green as he ran them across Coulson’s skin. He winced. He was still young, and healing spells weren’t as easy as everyone made them seem. But he tried his best to at least staunch the flow and keep Coulson awake.

The door began making soft “ _thud, thud_ ” sounds as people outside tried to break in. Coulson coughed, breaths becoming short and difficult. “You have to go,” he said to the children. “You have to get out of here and run.”

“But the door…” Clint said, gesturing to it hopelessly.

There was a spark of light as Thor swung his hammer, and the sound of metal screeching as he slammed it into the floor. He did this several times, beating an opening into the crawlspace between this floor and the lower level. “Friends, I have found a way to escape,” he proclaimed happily.

Coulson smiled weakly. “There you go. Good boy, Thor. Well done.”

“We can’t just leave you!” Steve protested.

“You can and you will. It’s not me they’re after, Steve. They want you kids. And it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let them get to you,” Coulson replied, pushing the boy towards Thor, who was helping Loki into the hole. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“Go!” Coulson shouted as the door started to give. Steve jumped down after Tony and Bruce, and together he and Thor pushed and pulled the sheet of metal roughly back into place. Coulson dragged himself in front of it, one hand clamped across his wound, the other clutching a gun. He gritted his teeth and waited. No one was touching his kids. Not ever.

 

The kids crawled through the air ducts, a few silently weeping in fear as the Helicarrier rocked once more. They didn’t dare go up; they were too afraid the baddies might be waiting for them. There were a number of shouts and screams, and the gunfire echoed above them. Clint repressed a shudder as he crawled, shoulder to shoulder with Natasha. Bruce was doing his best to keep calm, but he was shaking badly. Tony stopped and pressed his weight against Bruce, one arm around him.

“It’ll be okay, Bru,” Tony whispered, letting go of the boy. “Come on, we’re almost there.” Bruce nodded and started crawling again, the shaking dying down.

Steve crawled awkwardly behind them, his shield covering their flank just in case. “Where does this vent go?” he asked as quietly as possible.

“This one takes the warm air outside,” Natasha answered.

“What shall we do when we get there?” Thor queried, the others wincing at how loud he sounded in the small space.

“Uh… We’ll wing it,” Tony said.

Suddenly, the Helicarrier shuddered and was silent. Then they noticed how gravity seemed to be trying to drag them upwards. “The Heli’s falling!” Steve shouted in horror.

“Go, go, go!” Tony cried, urging them forwards as fast as they were able.

They reached the slatted opening, and Thor made short work of it with Mjolnir. Quickly, the children crowded it, but couldn’t see anything to cling to outside. Loki was undeterred, slithering out into the open air. “Loki!” Thor shouted, trying to snatch his brother back into the duct.

“I’m okay, Thor. Hurry up,” Loki whispered, reappearing in the opening. The others looked out to see Loki standing on what seemed to be a magic carpet.

“Thank god your favourite movie’s Aladdin,” Tony murmured, climbing on. It was quite stable and comfortable, though it was obvious that Loki was quickly growing tired, sweat pouring from his thin body. The others hurried on, except Thor who said he would use Mjolnir rather than exhaust his brother’s magic. The magic carpet floated away from the Helicarrier, which was falling fast. Loki directed the carpet towards a large green statue and soon they were safely on the ground. They watched anxiously, but were relieved to see the Helicarrier stutter before regaining its stability and ceasing its fall.

“Oh thank God,” Steve murmured, closing his eyes.

“But Steve, I had nothing to do with it,” Thor said in confusion.

“I was talking about _the_ God, Thor, not you!” Steve snapped.

Thor pouted. “I am too a god.”

Loki let his knees gave way, distracting both blonds. “I’m tired,” he said weakly to his frantic brother.

“You did great, Loki,” Bruce told him, as he and Clint helped the boy to his feet. “We’re safe because of you.”

“You did too, Bruce. You didn’t Hulk out at all,” Natasha smiled. Bruce smiled shyly back, his hand curling round the hem of his shirt.

“Guys, it’s the statue of Liberty,” Tony said, staring up at it.

Steve looked round immediately, face brightening. “That means we’re in New York!” he cheered.

“What should we do?” Natasha queried.

“Well… we should hide out. In New York!” Tony grinned. “It’ll be the perfect place to hide.”

“But Coulson said-”

“Coulson’s not here right now. And even if ‘it’s a big bad world out there’ it’s better than being kidnapped by a bunch of guys who wanna experiment on us and shit.”

“Tony swore!” a chorus of voices said to a phantom authority figure.

Tony rolled his eyes. “C’mon, haven’t you guys _ever_ been curious about this place? I mean, the adults get to go wherever they want. And Fury’s always either here in New York or on the Helicarrier, but he still gets to choose. Why shouldn’t we get to have some fun for once?”

“What if something bad happens?” Clint demanded.

“Nothing bad’ll happen. We’ll stick together and no one’ll dare hurt us,” Tony announced. “Who’s with me?”

The others let out a chorus of cheers. Loki was put on Thor’s back and Bruce clambered onto Tony’s, with Natasha on Clint’s. Steve hurried along in front, delighted at the sight of the Statue. They looked around for a while, but quickly got bored with the island. For once, it seemed almost completely devoid of tourists of any kind. “Tony, how are we gonna pay? I left my piggy bank in my room,” Bruce said as they got in line for the ferry.

“It’s okay, Bru. I’ll pay,” Tony grinned. “I swiped Fury’s credit card and hacked into his bank details.”

“Tony!” Steve exclaimed. “That’s bad! Very, very bad!”

“Hey, he won’t let me at my trust fund ‘til I’m eighteen. Frankly I’m considering this my allowance. Plus, I’m only using it to get us tickets. Then we’ll just go see my dad and get some money.”

“Will your dad really give us money?” Clint said sceptically.

“Of course he will. He’s my dad; he has to give me money,” Tony replied, swiping the card and handing everyone their tickets. They boarded the ferry, excitement building. This was the first time in a long time that any of them had been away in the Helicarrier. They’d largely forgotten what it was like to be in a city of any kind, or even a country town. And they had never been this close to the water, or swimming for that matter, except that one time they had been hovering a few feet above the ocean and Clint had fallen in. He hadn’t enjoyed it, nor was he pleased with Tony calling him “Penguin” for two weeks straight.

“It’s so bright,” Natasha grinned.

“You should see it at night. I remember one New Years Eve, me and dad were sitting on the roof of his tower and we could see Times Square. It was like looking at the sun. But without the loss of sight,” Tony said.

“Do you remember a lot about your dad, Tony?” Steve asked.

Tony’s smile faltered a bit. “I- Yeah. I remember bits and pieces. Some of it… I lost some of my memory in the Caves. But I’m sure it wasn’t important,” he said, hitching his grin back in place.

“How come he never visits?” Loki queried, peering out at the city over Thor’s shoulder.

“He decided it was too dangerous, just in case someone tracks him. He sends me letters sometimes, and presents. But I’m sure he’ll be really happy to see me, and he’ll be glad to meet you all.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, he’ll be hell excited to meet you, Spangles. My Grandpa was good friends with your dad, and he told my dad all about you.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanna go to the movies. Can we, Tony?” Bruce asked.

“We’ll see, big guy,” Tony said cheerfully, privately glad they were off the subject of his father.

“Why is Tony in charge?” Thor frowned. “I am the oldest, I should be the leader!”

“You can be in charge when you can work a door on the first try,” Tony replied.

“THAT IS MOST UNFAIR! IT IS NOT MY FAULT I HAVE DIFFICULTIES WITH YOUR MIDGARDIAN ENTRYWAYS! THEY VARY GREATLY AND SOME OF THEM ONLY OPEN ONE WAY AND SOME OF THEM SPIN AND THEY EVEN SLIDE WHEN YOU WALK UP TO THEM!” Thor boomed, despite the fact his voice broke halfway through.

Tony smirked. “You’ve broken _twenty-nine_ , Thor. And you even _walked_ through a sheet of glass because you didn’t notice it was there.”

Thor pouted immediately, mumbling to himself. “It is alright, brother. I will support you if you overthrow Tony,” Loki told him happily, patting his brother’s shoulder. This didn’t cheer up the thunder god, as evidenced by the gathering clouds.

“C’mon, Thor. We’re in the ‘City That Never Sleeps’ and we aren’t being forced to just rush around. We can relax and do whatever we want,” Tony said, nudging the blond with his elbow. The children cheered once more, which drew annoyed glances from the few passengers of the ferry, but other than that had an uneventful ride. It was, however, to be one of the only uneventful times in their coming adventure.

 

Fury sat down carefully next to the wounded agent’s bed. ‘How’re you feeling, Phil?’

Coulson sat up with difficulty, sighing. “I’ve been better. Honestly, I think it was Loki’s magic that saved me from being completely dead by the time you found me. How is he? And the others too?”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about,” Fury said quietly.

“They haven’t been captured?” Phil asked, tensing.

Fury shook his head. “No, as far as we know, they left of their own accord. But they’ve vanished off our radar.”

Coulson paused, before getting out of the bed and searching for his clothes. “They’re smart kids, so they’ll likely be making their way to the nearest SHIELD office and-”

“Phil,” Fury broke in softly. “We’ll find them. But you need to rest.”

“I need to find my kids,” Phil replied curtly.

“They aren’t _your_ kids,” Fury said.  
“They might as well be.”

“They are the property of SHIELD. They are in our custody.”

“They’re children. And they’re in _my_ care,” Coulson bit back.

“Are we going to have a disagreement, _Agent_ Coulson?” Fury said seriously, narrowing his eye.

“No, we are not, because there is nothing to disagree with. They are my kids, and they are in my care. It is my job to look after them and protect them. As of now, I have failed at both. I have to make it up to them. I have to find them before anyone else does.”

Fury sighed, perching on the edge of the bed. “You need to rest. You were wounded-”

“It’s nothing compared to losing my kids,” Coulson insisted.

Fury glared at him, lips pressed tightly together. He wondered if Coulson would disobey a direct order if he were to give it. A steely determination flashed in the agent’s eyes, and Fury knew that the man would stop at nothing to rescue “his” children. “Fine. I grant you permission to use whatever means you deem necessary in order to retrieve the children of the Avengers Initiative. And Coulson,” Fury turned so that his good eye was facing the agent dead on, “If anyone has hurt them, I want the perpetrators sent to me, _unharmed_ , so that I may deal with them personally.” The spy turned away and marched out the door. “Now wipe that smirk off your face, Agent Coulson,” he added as he went.

 

_ Chapter Two: _

Steve ran on ahead of the group, laughing happily. Although the world had changed so much, some things were still the same. The people were still full of attitude and the air was as cold as it had ever been. The cars that roared past, or were idling in traffic jams, were colourful and sleek and strange. The buildings stretching upwards were higher than they had ever been before, their windows glinting in the weak sunlight. People shouted and murmured and there was music pouring from every shop and from headphones and mobile phones and the lights flashed and changed colour like a carnival ride. It was alien and familiar and so much better than the boring Helicarrier.

“Hold on, Capsicle, don’t go too far,” Tony called, jogging slightly to keep up with the small boy. “You might get lost.”

“I’ll be fine, Tony. I just wanted to see the lights,” Steve hollered back, weaving through the crowded streets.

Tony chuckled, glancing up. “That’s nothing. At night, the lights are so bright they block out the stars.”

“Really?” Steve asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Hey, Bru, you hungry?”

“Um, yeah,” Bruce mumbled.

“How ‘bout a hot dog? New York hot dogs are a thousand times better than the ones on the Helicarrier,” Tony suggested.

“Do hot dog men take credit cards?” Clint asked.

“Uhh… I’ll go find a bank or something,” Tony said.

“Look, friend Tony, a machine that gives out money!” Thor exclaimed.

“That’s an ATM, Thor. C’mon, we’ll get some money out.” Tony walked up to the small ATM line confidently.


	8. Life Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: In an attempt to regain control after the appearance of heroes and villains, any person caught practicing vigilantism (or villainy) will be immediately arrested and incarcerated in a specially built prison. But a great threat is drawing closer and if the heroes can’t escape their confinement, the world is doomed. (Basically it’s a prison AU that is still within the Marvel Universe).

Bruce Banner had been there since the beginning. The prison had practically been built around him. Five years ago, he had been working in a military lab. And then the Hulk had come roaring into existence, trashing his lab and his life. They’d caught him a few months later after he’d tried to kill himself and accidentally unleashed the Hulk on Nova Scotia. Post-transformation, they’d sedated him. Next thing he knew, he was in a cell with walls stronger than steel and strange cuffs around his wrists. A voice through the slot in the door had coolly informed him that if he attempted to transform, the device they’d embedded in his skull would render him brain dead in under a minute. This was, of course, an extreme measure and one they hoped not to have to resort to. The cuffs were to help him remain calm. He hadn’t figured out how, exactly, but he hoped it was more than just a placebo effect. They would give him whatever he asked for – within reason. He could have books. He could use a tablet, although they blocked any attempt to communicate with the outside world. But he couldn’t have anything that he might use to hurt himself or escape. They did offer to let him work in a small facsimile of his lab. He could even continue his search for a cure. It was all at the beat of their drums though. Anything they didn’t like, didn’t happen. Privately, he was relieved. The decision about what to do with his new… _acquaintance_ was out of his hands. Still, he was annoyed to be imprisoned for something he couldn’t control. Either way, he knew less people would be hurt with him locked away. The other guy was a monster, a being of pure anger. The idea of being rid of him, that he had a safe, contained environment in which to conduct his research, inspired a sick sense of gratitude. After three years, with no sign of a cure or release from this place, Bruce had resigned himself to a monotonous routine that would continue until he died. If he _could_ still die, that is.

 

Tony Stark had been arrested after he’d taken down Obadiah Stane. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Pepper he was okay. His cell was clean and well lit, a far cry from the hellhole he’d occupied for nearly three months. Of course, the Ten Rings had been stupid enough to trust him with tools and materials. Whoever had him now – though he had a suspicion that it was the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division – had denied him access to anything, even staples. He was allowed one pen and as much paper as he wanted. When his pen ran out, he had to surrender the used one before he could get another one. And they checked the pen for any missing parts. They checked his cell too, each night every inch was scanned for imperfections or hidey-holes. The cell itself was Spartan without being lacking. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least it had a functioning toilet. If he was honest, he could have avoided imprisonment. But it would have meant surrendering his suit to the government and committing himself to their leadership. He would have been an indentured slave. Or a prostitute, depending on what state he was in. Either way, he couldn’t allow himself to do that. It might have been his pride talking, but Tony Stark was no one’s slave. He’d spent a lot of his life refusing to follow expectations. This wasn’t any different. He devoted a lot of his time to watching the people within the prison facility. He was largely silent – no reason to be a playboy here, even if it was a co-ed prison – and interacted with others sparingly. He observed the comings and goings of the staff and the slowly swelling population. The few visits he got from Pepper or Rhodey were mostly to confirm the goings on of the world outside. He didn’t bother trying to warn them that they might be under surveillance, or possibly having a sniper poised to assassinate them if he slipped up. They already knew the stakes. They were willing to stand by him, no matter the dangers.

 

Steve Rogers had been fresh out of the ice when they’d asked him to become, in their words, an agent sworn to protect the nation’s interests. He had meant to accept the offer. He probably would have. But he needed time. He needed to get his head on straight. To him, it had only been a matter of minutes between going to sleep and waking up. He needed _time_. But they wouldn’t accept ‘ _let me think about it_ ’ as an answer. And the more insistent – although overbearing was probably a better description – they were, the more suspicious Steve was. They hadn’t allowed him to access much in the way of information, mostly a few history books. He was certain they weren’t telling him everything. So he’d refused. It might not have been the wisest decision, but it was definitely informative. The minute ‘ _no, tell me_ ’ had passed his lips, he’d been sedated. That had pissed him off and he’d been pleased to catch them unawares when it had worn off. He’d gotten pretty far too. Almost to the perimeter of whatever facility he was in. They caught him before he could scale the fence. After that, they’d upped the ante. They weren’t pulling any more punches. Despite this, he learned a lot about the current state of the outside world. Whoever had him before – he remembered someone mentioning SHIELD – had neglected to even tell him the date. But now he knew and he was horrified. After he’d disappeared, there’d been a surge in the mutant population. To be accurate, the government had encouraged mutants to start identifying themselves with offers of protection and payment. The poor souls had thought they might become the next Captain America, the next national hero fighting the good fight. He might have prayed that they had found peace if he still believed someone would hear. His faith was waning in the face of this misery.

 

Thor spent the first few months immobilised, his captors too afraid to allow him any freedom. He hadn’t regained Mjolnir – he hadn’t proved himself worthy. He was still in his mortal form. His family had not reached out to him in all that time. Why would they? He’d caused so many problems with his foolish, hard-headed stupidity. He had made so many mistakes. But he couldn’t dwell on that. His situation now was more important. When they had decided he was less of a threat, he was allowed to mingle with the main population. Not that there was anyone he wished to talk to. The people, though many of them were once valiant warriors, carried an aura of defeat about them. They had been beaten severely, their hopes and dreams dashed, at the hands of the government they had meant to serve and protect. He did his best to learn what he could about this new place. The United States of America, though the history books led him to believe that it was rarely true. There was nothing about this current period. He tried listening in on the conversations of others, hoping to learn something. He had never been very good at eavesdropping, even as a young child. The prisoners and guards alike gave him strange looks. He supposed even in this place, with humans unlike any other, he was still an oddity to them. He wondered sometimes if that was how Loki had felt growing up.

 

Natasha Romanov was not a prisoner. She had offered her service immediately. She admitted it was cowardly, but the offer had been made at a point where saying no would mean imprisonment… or execution. And she hadn’t escaped the Red Room just to die. She wanted to survive, long enough to establish _something_ for herself. To have a home maybe, or a life away from destruction and death. Working for SHIELD (an _American_ spy agency) was different from Department X, but eerily similar in the same breath. It paid well enough, and she had rooms and food provided. All she had to do was track down vigilantes. People trying to do what they could with the gifts they’d been given. She had mixed feelings about it, but it was just another job. It wasn’t like she was killing them after all.

 

Clint Barton was considered one of the best – and worst – agents of SHIELD.


	9. Saving Captain Rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: In this universe, the only superheroes are fictional. The Avengers are a group of gamers who have channels on YouTube and became friends/rivals entirely by accident. They each have their issues, and sometimes they can be at each other’s throats, but being able to work out their frustrations with a group of people who understand is at least cathartic. Things take a turn for the worse when Steve goes missing, leading to the worldwide search to find Captain America. Together, the rest of the team uses every resource at their disposal to track down their wayward friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark (IAmIronMan): CEO and owner of Stark Industries, he took up the responsibility of managing the company YouTube channel – mostly because it meant he didn’t have to go to so many meetings. Along with the standard ‘here’s what my company is doing that will rock your world’ and ‘allow me to test out my products and convince you that you should buy it’ this also meant that he was in charge of testing out video games. He started out only testing Stark Games but quickly got into other games. Nicknamed Iron Man (the current handle for his personal gaming channel) after winning the supposedly unwinnable sci-fi MMORPG ‘The Iron Games’. 
> 
> Bruce Banner (LetsBeCalmAboutThis): A physicist who turned to video games looking for a way to vent his anger and quickly became a well-known rage gamer. After reaching a certain level of infamy, his then-girlfriend suggested he start a YouTube channel. An accident at the lab where he worked sent Bruce running off into the wilderness and across the globe. However, after much wheedling and begging from Tony, he recently agreed to move in with the billionaire. In his early days he was nicknamed ‘the Hulk’ for his massive temper and he resented it. Lately he’s come to accept it. He has a side-channel about meditation/relaxation and another shared with Tony devoted to science and explaining new discoveries. (Let’sBeCalmAboutThis2 and ScienceBros)
> 
> Clint Barton (H3ckY3@hH@wk3y3): He was well-known in the medieval MMORPG circuit and had the highest archery level in ‘King Arthur’s Realm’ in the history of gaming. His gaming handle, Hawkeye, comes from his days in the military. He’s roommates with Natasha Romanoff and they make a formidable team. Very little is known about his current situation except that he has a young daughter and can be away for weeks at a time. Occasionally he’ll record playing a game with his daughter, but he requests that people keep their comments PG. His fans like to call themselves bird-brains. He also vlogs about weaponry and wilderness survival (also under his main handle).
> 
> Natasha Romanoff (TheBlackWidow): Natasha is infamous for beating the ‘Red Room’ single-handedly. She’s an extremely competent gamer, but will often throw games to lull others into a false sense of security. She lives with Clint and has made numerous threats against his dog, though she’s never followed through with any of them. Like Hawkeye, no one knows what she does outside of gaming, though her schedule isn’t as erratic as his. A popular story involving Widow is about how she infiltrated Stark Industries and snuck into Tony Stark’s office to issue a challenge to him. Stark, impressed and slightly terrified, offered her a job and accepted the challenge. She occasionally joins Hawkeye to talk about weaponry and survival, as well as hosting a channel about self-defence and worst-case-scenarios (BlackWidowBites).
> 
> Thor (Th0rG0d0fThund3r): Known only by his handle, Thor is a loud, boisterous gamer who enjoyed playing ‘Odin’s Chosen’ and eventually won the title of ‘Odin’s Favourite Son’. His complicated relationship with his brother is a very sore subject and it is inadvisable to talk about him unless Thor mentions him first. He lives with his girlfriend, an astrophysicist named Jane Foster, and Jane’s friend Darcy. His numerous quirks make him extremely endearing, though his temper is often compared to a thunderstorm. According to comments from Jane and Darcy, he set up his account in the hopes of making friends after leaving his family home.
> 
> Steve Rogers (CaptainAmerica): Originally known as SteveGRogers, he changed his handle after Tony made the comment “It’s as though someone condensed every American ideal into human form. He’s like- Captain America! Guardian of freedom and apple pies! Just standing near him makes me want to enlist.” He appears to spend a lot of time with Tony and Bruce, though he supposedly lives in Brooklyn. His interest in video games came about after being honourably discharged from the military due to injuries sustained in battle, although he talks endlessly of finding some way to reenlist. Bored of civilian life, Captain Rogers started out playing games like Battlefield and CoD. His main channel was more devoted to art than gaming, but after Tony specially created an art-based game (Drawn to Adventure), he started branching out more and accepting invitations to other games.

**Chapter One:**

 

“Hey, hey, don’t shoot at me, birdie! I’m not a terrorist!” Tony yelled.

“You’re looking very terrorist-y to me, Tony. What do you think, Nat?” Clint said, the grin evident even without seeing his face.

There was a beat of silence before Natasha spoke. “I think Stark is stalling for Banner.”

“I _would never_ betray my country! Not even for a man as delightful and wholesome as Doctor Robert Bruce Banner- RUN BRUCE RUN!”

“Put a bullet in him, Nat- Oh Jesus! Banner!? Did you suicide bomb us?” Clint demanded.

“I’m sorry but I couldn’t let you kill Tony.”

“But you killed Tony in the process!”

“Haven’t you ever heard of _Romeo and Juliet_ or _Thelma and Louise_ , Barton? Ya know, you jump, I jump? No?” Tony said. “Bruce, thank you for rescuing me slash killing me quickly.”

“Any time, Tony.”

“Is anyone else worried about the apparent murder-suicide pact between the Science Bros?” Clint asked.

“Very,” Thor grunted. “It does not bode well for any future success.”

“Do you guys wanna go to a new map? The desert chic is kinda last year,” Tony babbled.

“I’m down.”

“It is agreeable.”

“Fine, Stark, but _I_ wanna pick this time. You always go for the one with the least cover,” Natasha said.

“Whatever. Brucie?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Cap? You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”

“Hmm? Yeah- Just- I couldn’t sleep last night. Give me a couple minutes to get my head back in order.”

“Okay. Do you have any objections to changing the map?”

“No, no. Go for it.”

“Natasha, if you will?”

 

 

The wall behind him was probably dirty and he should stop leaning on it before he ruins his suit – Pepper’s always mad when he ruins his suits. He should, but he just doesn’t have the energy for it. It had been a hell of a week. One week with barely any sleep, trawling databases he wasn’t technically allowed into, surviving on coffee and granola bars. Two weeks with no sign of Steve. Beside him, Bruce was dozing, his glasses slightly askew. He’d spent the week calling detective after detective, asking where the case was leading, what the next move was. He’d called Steve’s neighbours, tried to get in contact with Steve’s family, hunted through phonebooks until his eyes watered. He was the one who’d been coldly informed that the military was taking over the investigation and that there could be no further contact until it was resolved. He’d destroyed most of the lounge room and then slumped onto the floor, screaming bloody murder and every curse he could think of. Tony couldn’t blame him.

The airport around them was buzzing with activity but it felt far away. Tony kept his eyes open, no matter how much he wanted to go to sleep, searching the crowd for a giant blond apologising his way through. Possibly assisting an old lady or helping a pregnant woman carry her bags or giving children impromptu speeches about truth and justice. Instead, he saw a flash of red hair and was almost nose to nose with a bemused Hawkeye.

“You’re not very observant,” Clint noted. He smirked when Bruce startled awake, his glasses hanging off his ears. Natasha pinched Clint’s arm disapprovingly.

“Still no news?” she asked in an undertone.

“Yeah. It’s all quiet on the star-spangled front,” Tony said.

“The detectives won’t accept my calls anymore,” Bruce told her. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “I don’t even have the number for the military guy, and not one of my old colleagues’ knows a thing.”

Natasha settled her hands on Bruce’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. Their breaths seemed to synchronise and the tension in the man’s shoulders melted away. Natasha pulled him into a hug, murmuring something. Louder, she announced, “We’ll find him. We’re his friends, we won’t abandon him.”

Bruce nodded, pulling away. “It’s just… so _frustrating_. No one seems to care.”

“We care,” Clint said. “We’re here for him. No man left behind and all of that.”

“My friends!” a loud voice boomed, and suddenly Tony and Clint were swept into a tight embrace. Thor grinned down at them, although from the dark circles beneath his eyes it seemed to take a lot of effort. He released them and immediately grabbed onto Natasha and Bruce. Two women hovered behind him, looking concerned. “This is my beloved, Jane. She is an astrophysicist. And this is Darcy.”

“I’m their daughter,” Darcy deadpanned. Jane elbowed her in the ribs. “Adopted daughter.”

“She is a witty young woman, is she not?” Thor laughed. He turned suddenly solemn, his mouth downturned. “I thought, perhaps, they could be of some assistance. They both expressed concern for Steven’s welfare.”

Tony pulled out a small, handheld video camera, flicking it on and turning it round on himself. “The Search for Steve: Day One. We have all arrived in New York to begin a manual search. Local law enforcement has failed us and the military are being jackasses, so we – me, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Thor, Jane, and Darcy – have taken it upon ourselves to find our friend.”

“What are you doing, Tony?” Natasha asked.

“I’m _documenting_ our search. This way, if it turns out Steve just went off on a camping trip or some shit, I can embarrass him with how worried we were. Plus, I’ll be able to look over any evidence we find as many times as I like.”

“You’re planning to put this on the internet,” Darcy said, crossing her arms when he turned the camera on her.

“No! Well, not _unedited_ footage. But Steve has friends online – other than us, shocking I know – that are worried about him. I want to keep them in the loop. This way, we’ll have more people looking out for any sign of him on nearly every continent.”

“Do you really think Steve would go outside the country?” Bruce said.

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, we don’t even know _why_ he’s missing. He could have left of his own free will or been kidnapped. Isn’t that what we’re here to find out?”

“Come on. Let’s just head back to Stark’s and we can get to work,” Natasha declared, turning away. They all followed her out of the airport, each thinking of their missing friend with a heavy heart.

 

It was decided, after a lengthy discussion, that the next morning Natasha and Clint would sneak into Steve’s apartment to look over the crime scene (being the closest they had to government officials) and interrogate the neighbours. Thor and Jane would go to the police station to “make enquiries” – though the way Thor smiled made it clear he wasn’t going to be asking nicely. Tony, Bruce, and Darcy headed for an internet café so that Tony could attempt to hack the military files, again. Tony had insisted that they each have ‘spy cams’ in order to record everything for the rest of them. Thor was enthusiastic once he knew what they were.

 

Steve lived in an old-fashioned apartment in a shady corner of Brooklyn. Two bedroom, one bathroom, and a combined kitchenette/living room. The door was blocked off with yellow tape, but no one had thought to lock the windows. Natasha went inside first, her footsteps smothered by the shaggy carpet. Clint wasn’t far behind, pulling the curtains closed behind him. They split off, Natasha heading for Steve’s bedroom. His computer was gone, although his spare hard-drives were still tucked into a drawer. She took those and the journal hidden between his mattresses. The room was clean and tidy, although there was a light film of dust over everything. His drawers were half open, but the clothes inside were folded and neat. She checked his nightstand and his Miracle Medallion was gone. Nothing else had been touched. She made sure to record everything with the camera Tony had given her, making observations aloud. She left the room as it was, wiping away any trace of her visit. In the living room, Clint was combing over every surface with his own camera. “Anything to report?” Natasha asked, heading for the kitchenette.

“Everything seems in order, although there are scratches on the door that indicate it was jimmied open. The lamp was knocked over and then put back in the wrong position. I found a small spot of blood, as if someone maybe got a tooth knocked out of them. There’s a cup of coffee on the table there that’s half drunk. His wallet and car keys are gone. I’m getting the feeling Steve was involved in something a lot more serious than volunteer work,” Clint said. He opened the cupboards beneath Steve’s old, barely used TV. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I’d bet my bow that that’s a secret compartment back there,” Clint replied. He reached in and gently pried the panel away, revealing a small square cut into the wall. Inside was a laptop, probably the Stark Brand one that Tony sent him. A sticky note was stuck to the top. ‘ _For when I’m gone_.’

“A laptop?” Natasha arched an eyebrow. “I thought Steve’s computers were all dinosaurs.”

“We’ll take it back to Stark.” Clint got to his feet, tucking the laptop into his backpack. “That everything?”

“There’s the spare room and the bathroom.”

“Didn’t the spare room belong to Steve’s friend? What was his name?”

Natasha went over to the door and opened it. It was messier than Steve’s room. There clothes left in a pile, as though someone had only just shucked them off, though Natasha knew they had been there for a long time. “James Buchanan Barnes, known colloquially as Bucky. He went MIA two years ago, presumed dead. Steve never really got over it I suppose.” She closed the door. “Nothing of value in there. Check the bathroom.”

Clint checked the medicine cabinet first. “Aspirin, out of date allergy medication, out of date bronchi-whatever medication- actually, there’s a lot of out of date medication in here. It’s all for Steve. Was he sick?”

“I think he used to be. He mentioned getting beat up a lot when he was younger.”

“Too small to fight back,” Clint muttered. “No toothbrush or toothpaste. Didn’t he have some sort of toiletries bag? I remember him bringing it to a convention once. Stark was giving him shit for it.”

“It wasn’t in his room.”

“It’s not under his sink or in any of the cabinets.”

“Linen press maybe? Let me check.” Natasha went over to the small cupboard and opened it. There was a few towels – bath towels, dish towels, face cloths – and blankets shoved inside. On the bottom shelf was a large, square-shaped empty space. “No toiletries bag. Steve had one of those old-fashioned suitcases, the ones you carry. I haven’t seen any sign of it.”

“The window in here is rusted shut,” Clint called.

“I’m getting the feeling our Captain was up to something,” Natasha said when the blond returned.

“Illegal?”

“Not necessarily, but definitely something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.” Natasha went back to the window. “C’mon, let’s go interview the neighbours.”

 

“Look, sir, I know you’re concerned for your friend, but the matter is out of our hands,” the tired-looking policeman repeated for what was probably the fifth time.

Thor still wasn’t backing down, and the longer the man tried to convince him, the angrier Thor became. “No! I shan’t accept such a pitiable excuse! You were responsible for the investigation. Steven has been missing for close to two weeks and you have done _nothing_. He is a war hero in your country, and yet you will do nothing to show him your gratitude! What is the point of aligning yourself beneath the banner of justice and law if you will not exert yourself in its name! You are a shame to your compatriots. If you do not care, tell me so. Give me the truth for your apathy, or give me nothing.”

The officer gripped the arms of his chair tightly, taking deep breaths. “Sir, I’m sorry, but the case is out of my hands. Military police informed us that they were investigating and that we needed to hand over our evidence and any other information we had. The next day they informed us that the case was closed.”

“But they haven’t found Steve, have they?” Jane said.

“I wouldn’t know. The number they called us from was blocked.”

“So for all you know, they could have just been impersonators.” Jane crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised. “I would like to file a complaint.”

“Go ahead. It won’t change anything. You’re not relatives of the victim, so even if I knew anything, I wouldn’t have to tell you.” The policeman had obviously reached breaking point. “Get out of my office and stop pestering me with questions! I have a metric fuckton of paperwork to do and a dozen other cases to solve. Get out!”

Thor stood and slammed his hands down onto the desk. The policeman jumped and Thor leaned closer. “I would hope,” he hissed, eyes narrowed with rage, “that you do for them what you didn’t do for us: YOUR JOB.”

Jane gently pried Thor away, leading him out the door. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. What can we do now?”

Jane looked thoughtful, looking around the police station. “Wait for me outside. I have an idea.”

“How long will you take?”

“Uh… Give me an hour. You said your dad was friends with people in the FBI, the CIA, places like that? Why don’t you give him a call?”

“Excellent idea.” Thor pressed a kiss to Jane’s forehead and then walked out. He could trust Jane to look after herself. When she first met him, she’d hit him with her car and then insistently told him not to die. She’d pepper sprayed his brother when the younger man had followed her home, curious about Thor’s new girlfriend. He only pitied whoever decided to cross her.

While he waited for his father to pick up the phone, after checking that it was a decent time to call someone in Norway, Thor considered the situation. Two weeks ago, Steve had missed the Avenger’s bi-weekly game night. They hadn’t been concerned then, because it was always possible that something had come up and Steve hadn’t been able to message anyone. Natasha had tried to call Steve the next day, but couldn’t get through. They’d thought perhaps he was out. But after nearly a week of no messages, no calls, and no uploads to Steve’s channel, they had started to panic. It was Bruce and Tony who called the police after they had flown out to Brooklyn and found no one answering the door.

“ **Son? Are you there?** ” his father said. “ **Has something happened? Your brother said you did not call him as you usually do.** ”

Thor snapped out of his reverie. “ **Father. Sorry, I was thinking. I- I am greatly troubled. I need to ask for a favour.** ”

“ **Ask away, anything within my power I will grant** ,” his father answered.

“ **One of my friends has gone missing. He is a most virtuous and noble man, I assure you. To disappear like this is not his way. I was wondering… do you still have any contacts in America? Ones who might be able to help me? The police here have given up, and the US Army have taken over the case, but they will not tell us anything. We only want to make sure he’s okay.** ”

His father was quiet. Thor knew it to be his ‘I am thinking this over’ quiet rather than his ‘I’m waiting for you to say “just joking” because there’s no way you could have seriously said such a thing’ quiet. “ **I will see what I can do. Let me pass you over to your mother while I e-mail my old friends at the CIA and FBI.** ”

“ **Thank you, father.** ”

There was a faint rustling as the phone was passed to his mother. “ **Thor, you worried us. What has happened? You haven’t even uploaded any of your videos!** ”

“ **Captain America, Steven, has gone missing. We’re trying to find him.** ”

“ **Is there anything we can do?** ”

“ **I have asked father. He is doing what he can,** ” Thor said. He glanced around before lowering his voice. “ **We are all here in Brooklyn, searching for him. We will do whatever it takes to bring him home.** ”

“ **I’m sure you will, son. Keep safe. Your father has said he’ll text you soon if he finds anything. We love you, Thor,** ” his mother said.

“ **I love you too, both of you. Give the others my love.** ” Thor ended the call and looked around. Hopefully, ‘Odin’ would have something for him.

Jane appeared a few minutes later, breathless and with something tucked under her arm. She was looking over her shoulder nervously, gesturing for Thor to hurry. “Here, take this and hide it in your jacket. We need to get going.”

“What did you do?” Thor asked suspiciously, though he stowed the file into the folds of his jacket.

Jane grabbed his hand and quickly led him away. “Don’t ask until we’re safely in Stark Tower.”

 

“How much longer is this going to take?” Darcy asked. At least she was whispering.

“It’ll take as long as it takes,” Bruce replied. “There’s no way you can rush this kind of thing. We’ll just have to wait.”

“I _know_. I know… I’m used to this sort of thing from Jane, after all. But I had my iPod then.”

“Where is it?”

“Some guy stole it.”

“Confiscated,” a quiet voice corrected. A red iPod was set on the table. Everyone had frozen when he spoke, but now they turned to stare at him. He smiled. “I’m Phil Coulson, an agent of SHIELD.”

Tony closed his laptop and rested his elbows on it. He fixed on his best ‘I’m not breaking the law I swear’ smile and gestured to the seat across from him. “Well, what are you doing here then? Are there aliens around?”

Coulson raised his eyebrow at Tony and shook his head. “I’m also a friend of Natasha and Clint.”

“Agent!”


	10. What My Mother Doesn't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother knows best  
> Listen to your mother  
> It's a scary world out there  
> Mother knows best  
> One way or another  
> Something will go wrong, I swear  
> Ruffians, thugs  
> Poison ivy, quicksand  
> Cannibals and snakes  
> The plague  
> Also large bugs, men with pointy teeth  
> Stop, no more!  
> You’ll just upset me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU: Natasha lives a sheltered life, protected by her mother and father from the “horrors” of the outside world. After all, they need to “protect that pretty face,” as her mother would say. She lives in a nice house with high walls and servants and a garden that she’s not allowed in (“don’t want you getting stung by a bee, dear”). She has never been to the market (“nasty people at market, love. You’re not missing out”) even though it’s literally five steps from her front door. She’s never had friends who weren’t paid for (“only way to keep them loyal, honey”) or servants who could look her in the eye (“they’re below you, sweetie”). She has dresses that are too tight (“to emphasise your figure, kitten”) and shoes that pinch her feet. She has a suitor hand-picked by her parents (“he’s a lovely boy, very charming and polite. And his parents are very wealthy”) who wouldn’t know excitement if it slapped him in the face. But she doesn’t have a life. One day Natasha decides to take her chances with the world and runs away. On her way she’ll meet ruffians and thugs, sleazes and soldiers, pariahs and outcasts, and she’ll make the best friends she’ll ever have.

**Chapter One: I Can Go the Distance**

 

Natasha sighed as she leant out the window, peering at the bustling market. She was never allowed to go out to shop, even though it was right in front of her home. The sounds floated up to her, the merchant’s bellows mixing with gossiping mothers and screaming children and squeaking, squawking animals. A man darted into her line of sight, walking casually and whistling. But Natasha’s keen eyes spotted the slight bulge of his pocket as he passed the stalls. His hands were quick and precise, straying into unguarded pockets and out again in the blink of an eye. She grinned to herself, imitating his movements and speed with ease, as he disappeared from sight. A young woman, dressed in scarlet with a veil across her face, fell into line behind him and then they were gone round a corner. Natasha straightened up, closing her window as quietly as possible, and went back to her writing desk. She wrinkled her nose at the missives she still had to write; invitations for her eighteenth birthday celebration. If she were honest, she wanted to burn the papers in the fires of hell. If she were honest, she didn’t want a birthday celebration at all. If she were honest… she’d break her mother’s heart. Reluctantly, she sat down and picked up her quill, ignoring the twinges of protest in her hand.

Next week, she would be eighteen. Her parents were throwing her a party and inviting all of her relatives and ‘friends’. She should be happy. But she wasn’t, because eighteen meant getting proposals and marriage and _children_. Her parents would insist she wed her long-time suitor, Hugar Lillenspit, the son of a minor noble. And she would wed him because she wasn’t allowed to say no, and even if she did they would pretend she hadn’t and she would marry him anyway. They would decide on this matter the same way they had done for everything else in her life: without her input or agreement. Natasha had never been allowed to make a decision on her own. Even her dresses had been picked for her. It was enough to drive anyone insane. Natasha, however, had simply taken to deception and subterfuge. Her steps made no sound and she could lie without a twinge of guilt. She read books on how to survive, and how to identify healing herbs from poisons. The dance classes she loathed taught her how to stretch her muscles and honed her grace. She taught herself to fight and throw knives with precision, and to escape any binding or trap. She created disguises with her make-up kit and dresses, taught herself to act and adjust. She’d study the pickpockets in the markets (or what little she could see from her window) and mimic their movements until she could snatch a bobby pin from between someone’s teeth without their notice. She picked locks, practiced with swords and hammers and axes, she carved arrows until her hands bled from blisters and splinters. Because Natasha had a plan.

She was going to run away.

It was the only option left to her. No matter what she said or did, her parents would not listen to her. She was their only child, their daughter, their ‘ _baby girl_ ’, and they only wanted the ‘ _best_ ’ for her. It didn’t matter anymore though. She was not going to be a passive little flower swaying gently in their breeze. She was not going to be a trophy or a prize or an object. She had had enough. This was it. The plan had been brewing for a while now. It was simple enough, but it hinged on one thing: the aid of a young servant boy. She could see no way around his involvement; he was the only one with access to the garden shed (that she could threaten into compliance). The guards at every door meant it would be impossible for her to sneak out, but no one would notice a servant doing their job.

She signed the last invitation and put it on the pile, cracking her knuckles in a way that would make her mother cringe. Someone knocked on the door and she opened it with her usual, dewy smile. “Ah! Peter,” she grinned, stepping aside to let the young boy in. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“It’s no trouble, Miss Natasha,” Peter murmured, staring at his boots. “What do you need of me?”

“Well, looking me in the eye would be a start,” Natasha said.

Peter looked up warily, his eyes darting to the door. “As you wish.”

“Do you know what’s happening this Tuesday?”

“Your… birthday?” Peter guessed.

Natasha smiled, clapping her hands together. “Oh, you are bright, aren’t you? Yes, it will be my eighteenth birthday. Do you know what happens when a girl turns eighteen?”

“She gets old?” the twelve-year-old muttered.

“No! Well, technically, yes. But that’s not what we’re talking about and you know it!” Natasha waggled her finger in front of Peter’s nose, frowning. “When a girl turns eighteen, she’s expected to choose a suitor and get married.”

“You’re not asking me, are you?” Peter arched an eyebrow at her, looking disgusted by the idea.

“Don’t be smart, Peter. No one likes a smart servant,” Natasha sniffed haughtily. Secretly she was delighted by the banter. Peter was the only one who talked back to her, the other servants just nodded and averted their eyes. “What I want from you is very simple. I want you to help me escape.”

Peter’s other eyebrow joined the other as he gaped at her. “You’ve gone mad!” he exclaimed. “Do you realise what you just said?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t want to get married and walk one step behind a man as dreadful as Hugar Lillenspit. My parents would never let me say no to him, so I’m going to run away, and you’re going to help me,” Natasha told him firmly.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not gonna do it. They’d kill me!”

“But the question is, Peter, who are you more afraid of? My parents… or me?” Natasha grabbed Peter by the collar and pushed him into her desk chair. “I want you to help me, Peter. And you _are_ going to help me.”

“Can you at least bribe me so I feel like it was worth it?” Peter asked tiredly.

Natasha smiled wickedly, plucking a few of her necklaces and bracelets from her jewellery box and tossing them to Peter. “Take those and sell them at the market, I’ll give you half the money.”

Peter ran his thumb gently along a gleaming sapphire, frowning. “What do you want me to do?”

“I need to make a rope ladder to climb the wall with, but I don’t have the supplies. I need you to get them for me,” Natasha said nonchalantly.

“Fine. But you’ve got to take me with you.”

Natasha looked up in surprise. “You want to come?”

Peter nodded, seeming to sag into the seat. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. I wanna go find the circus.”

“Your parents?” Natasha asked.

Peter shrugged. “So, can I come?”

Natasha thought it over carefully. True, it would remove the risk of him blabbering after she left. “If you slow me down, or get me caught, I will leave you to the dogs,” she told him severely.

“Whatever. When are we leaving?”

“The night of the party. I’ll create a distraction and slip out the window. You have everything waiting at the back of the garden, and then we’ll climb over the wall. I have enough money to afford a horse and a pack mule.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Fine. Do you want me to gather supplies? Preserves, bandages, a tent?”

Natasha nodded, smiling at how easily the entire thing had gone. “Yes, good idea.”

 

There were screams of horror as a maid discovered Lord Hugar unconscious with a gash on his forehead and Natasha missing, a piece of her dress clutched in his hands. The girl in question fell to the ground outside the wall lightly, rolling slightly to avoid injury. Peter appeared at the top of the wall, throwing their packs down and following them with more grace than his lanky body would suggest. The pair were away into the night, a few crushed roses the only sign that they had been there at all. Natasha waited patiently outside of the stables as Peter bought their steeds, and then they were gone, riding hard and fast and avoiding the usual path. By daybreak they were far away from Romanov Keep. Natasha let the fresh, grass-scented air settle in her lungs, relishing it. She pulled down her hood and the wind rustled her un-braided hair. It was a luscious feeling that made her feel like bursting into song and gathering woodland animals to her side. Peter did not share her good mood, grumbling about his sore backside and his rumbling stomach every few minutes. For the moment he was quiet, his head resting against Natasha’s back and his hands gripping the saddle. “Are you awake, Peter?” Nat asked as she slowly navigated around a particularly large tree.

“Mmm, yeah,” Peter nodded and Natasha could feel the movement through her cloak.

“How much further to town is it?”

Peter sat up straight, pulling a map and a compass from his pocket with a yawn. He spent several minutes looking between the two items and the star strewn sky above them. “A mile more. We should go closer to the road so we’ll know when to make the turn.”

Natasha nodded, clicking her tongue. Her horse, a shy, golden mare that she had christened Ivanya, turned obediently and trotted towards the road. The pack mule, a dusty coloured thing that seemed to be in a perpetual bad mood, followed along behind. They halted when they reached the tree line, they stopped. Natasha was still, watching the road warily. The sound of hooves impacting against the hard-packed dirt road reached them and a cream-colored colt went storming past, its rider hunched forwards. Natasha quietly urged her horse to follow them, keeping to the shadows beneath the trees. It had been two days since they had left Romanov Keep, so she felt confident that the rider was not after her. As she followed, she managed to make out the barest outline of a crest on the back of the rider’s cloak. A mask leered out at them, framed by a thin, delicate rendering of lightning. Natasha snorted softly at it, rolling her eyes. “He is far from Latveria,” she remarked.

Peter, who had been peering over her shoulder, shuddered. “One of Lord Doom’s? Let’s keep our distance, please? Cook told me tales of what the men of Latveria-town are like.”

“I have heard them too, Peter, do not worry. Besides, my parents have likely sent word to Latveria-town. They are ruthless enough to put out a reward for my return,” Natasha said darkly. She let the rider disappear ahead of them and crossed the road. When they finally reached the little town of Crow’s Hollow, the sun was starting to creep up over the horizon.

“Finally,” Peter sighed, jumping down from the saddle. He landed and untied the mule from Ivanya, leading it over to a trough. Natasha followed suit, brushing her fingers through Ivanya’s mane. She looked around, keenly interested. This was the first time she had been away from Romanov Keep. Not once had she stepped outside the walls of her home.

“This is… beautiful,” she breathed.

Peter wrinkled his nose, glancing around. “Yeah, sure, Miss Natasha. Whatever you say.”

“Don’t do that,” Natasha said sharply.

“Do what?”

“Don’t call me Miss anything, okay? As far as anyone knows, I’m your big sister Natalie, and we’re looking for our parents. Got it?”

“Does this mean I can call you sis?” Peter grinned.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “C’mon, let’s go find a room for the night.”

Peter nodded, grabbing Ivanya’s reins and leading her and the mule towards a small stable. Natasha headed to the inn, tucking her cloak around her. She ignored the stares as she approached the innkeeper’s desk. A stout man sat idly, his wispy, ginger hair slick from sweat. He mopped his forehead with a ragged handkerchief and eyed her cautiously. “May I help you?” he asked.

“I’d like a room,” Natasha answered.

The man grinned at her, opening a small, leather-bound book and pulling out a quill. “Oh? Will it just be you, Miss? Or will you have… _guests_?”

“My younger brother and I will be having no guests,” Natasha said meaningfully, raising her eyebrow at the man.

“Oh. Names?”

“Natalie and Peter Parker.”

“How long will you be staying with us, Miss Parker?”

 “I think a night should be long enough. We’re only passing through.”

“Do you have business elsewhere?”

“I don’t think I should bore you with the details,” Natasha told him. She paused, bracing herself against the counter and leaning forward. “I could use a bit of information though. We’re looking for the Barton Family Circus Troupe. You wouldn’t happen to know where they might be?”

The man smiled predatorily, his eyes darting downwards. “I think I might. Perhaps I need my memory refreshed.”

“I think I can help with that.” Natasha smiled sweetly, leading the way out the back. She waited for the man to get closer before grabbing his arm and twisting. She cut off his howl of pain by dunking his head in a barrel of water. He thrashed wildly and she pulled him back, listening with satisfaction as he spluttered. “Is that refreshing enough for you?”

“Crazy bitch!” he snarled, trying to throw her off.

She forced his head back into the water, leaving him in a few seconds longer than the first time. He didn’t fight her when she brought him up, instead focusing on getting air into his lungs. “So, the circus?”

“They were heading for the Winterland capital last I heard! There’s a big celebration for the Queen’s birthday and the King hired every performer he could find. That’s all I know,” the man cried.

Natasha dusted off her hands and straightened her cloak, fishing around for her coin purse. She threw a few gold coins at his feet. “For the room and your silence.” She bowed mockingly to him, heading back inside. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Peter was waiting for her with the luggage and his eyes widened when she simply pulled a key off one of the hooks. He followed her up the stairs, wincing whenever a floorboard creaked underfoot. “What were you doing?” he queried.

“Getting information,” Natasha said, helping him lug their bags into the room. She claimed the bed nearest the door and laid back on it, sighing. “The circus is heading for Winterland. We’ll head for the Frosted Road and maybe join up with them before they reach the Winter Palace.”

“We?”

“I’m sorry, do you want to go alone?”

“What? No. No, I just didn’t think you’d want to go with me. You’re free now, aren’t you? I thought you’d want to be rid of the annoying kid as soon as possible,” Peter answered slowly.

“You’re not annoying. Besides, I need to get my bearings. I can’t just run off into the wild blue yonder. I have no experience with this sort of thing, just what I’ve read in books,” she told him, shrugging. “And I never got to see the circus when it came to town, so I’m not gonna leave you just yet.”

Peter smiled, though he hid it by focusing on the straps of his pack. “Okay. Works for me.”

 

**Chapter Two: The Circus of Miracles**

 

Natasha sighed as they crested the hill that had obscured their view of the Ice Fortress, the Winterland capital and home to the King and Queen of Frost. They ruled over the coldest area in the entirety of Marvella where nothing prospered but hatred. For nearly two hundred years they have been locked in a war with the Frost Giants of Jotunheim. One hundred years ago they lost their greatest ally, Asgard, after a peace treaty was signed between Asgard and Jotunheim. It created a rift between the two that has never been repaired and is most obvious in the current feud over Ascension. The death of Emperor Bor had sent the empire into turmoil as he had never chosen a successor. His son, King Odin, has attempted to take the throne several times, only to be opposed by the King of Frost, the Mad Titan, and Lord Doom. Even here, in this frigid wasteland that was once inhabited by the Jotuns, there were strong signs of battle. For now, though, it was quiet and still.

Peter panted, stopping to lean against the charred remains of an overturned cart. “Any sign of the circus yet?”

“No,” Natasha said. She petted Ivanya as she waited for the younger boy to regain his breath. “We should be close, though. They were only an hour ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story information:  
> The Empire of Marvella, currently facing internal struggles, is split into eleven regions: Romanova, Starkland, Genosha, Wakanda, the Winterland, Jotunheim, Asgard, Land of the Mad Titan, Doom's Land, the Savage Land, and the Shielded Valley. The Kingship has recently fallen into dispute after the death of the former High King Bor. Four lands (the Winterland, Asgard, Land of the Mad Titan, and Doom's Land) are currently battling for dominance and Kingship. Four (Wakanda, Romanova, Starkland, Genosha) are neutral, having either given up their claims to the throne in exchange for lessened taxes or exemption from war duties. The final three (Jotunheim, the Shielded Valley, and the Savage Lands) have saught independance, declaring themselves free of Marvella's rule. If the Kingship is ever resolved, war will be declared on the three to bring them back into line. Until then, they enjoy the freedom of self-governance.
> 
> Romanova: One of the poorer regions of Marvella, they gave up their claim to the throne for leniency and lesser taxes. Twenty-five years before the beginning of the story, the deceased King and Queen Romanov attempted a coup to overthrow High King Bor. They were caught, stripped of their titles and executed, along with their children and grandchildren. The current rulers are cousins, having the lesser titles of Nobility but not Royalty. They have been significantly cowed by heavy taxes, strict rules, and heavy penalties and have kept their only child under lock and key out of fear.
> 
> Starkland: The King of Starkland, Anthony Stark, gave up his claim to the High Throne due to his indifference towards leadership roles. His country is currently run and managed by Lady Virginia Potts, who was granted the title by the King as proof of his trust. She is fiercely efficient and guided the region into a time of peace and prosperity. The King is also well-liked (though perhaps not well respected) for his immense intelligence and charming personality. His innovative technology (based on steam, coal. and solar) has provided his people with comfort and safety. A year prior to the story, Lord Obadiah Stane attempted to overthrow King Anthony and takeover the land. He did not succeed and the rebellion was crushed.
> 
> Genosha: One of two regions of Marvella known for an abundance of sorcerers/magicians. Due to a recent attempt by the Mad Titan to have magic banned within Marvella, the residents of Genosha have cut ties with most others, trading only with Starkland and Wakanda. They used to have a strong alliance between King Charles of Xavier and King Erik of the Savage Lands, but after a violent disagreement the two countries no longer interact. Rumours have spread about King Xaviers mysterious X-Men, thought to be his secret police.
> 
> X: The land went unnamed for much of its existence, although locally it is known as Haven. Officially it is known as 'X' and is the only place, other than Genosha, to have natural born magic-users. Previously, King Charles was indifferent to Ascension, but after the Mad Titan tried to have magic - and magic-users by extension - banned he has taken a much more active stance.


End file.
